


Vices and Virtues

by Angelwingsl3 (Marie_Fanwriter)



Series: The Reaper and his Archangel [1]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: AU, Bondage, Canon-Typical Violence, Enthusiastic Consent, Light BDSM, M/M, M/M Rares 2018, ME1, MEBB 2018, Mass Effect Big Bang 2018, Mild Gore, Prequel, Rough Sex, Sensation Play, switch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-05-16 06:43:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 39,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14806305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marie_Fanwriter/pseuds/Angelwingsl3
Summary: Summary:Detective Vakarian earned the opportunity to interrogate Spectre Arterius before Commander Shepard's meeting with the Council. When it doesn't go as well as he hoped, he's given a chance to learn from the best. And that is one lesson Garrus isn't willing to miss.As his and Saren's relationship develops into more than either of them expected and they all rush to stop the Reapers, Garrus must balance his feelings with his better judgment. A task made harder by the question of whether Saren is crazy... or right.Excerpt:“Do you still think I’m guilty?” Saren asked once again.With more conviction than the first time, Garrus replied: “You are.”Follows Mass Effect 1's story-line.NSFW art embedded, chapters 1 and 3.NSFW chapters 1, 3, 4.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ooooOdefinitelynotafishgirlOoooo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ooooOdefinitelynotafishgirlOoooo/gifts).



> This is collaborative work between myself and an amazing artist. It's been a pleasure working together for this piece. I hope you all enjoy it!  
>   
> Written by: [**Angelwingsl3**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marie_Fanwriter)  
>  Art by: [**BethAdastra (AO3)**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BethAdastra)
> 
> I have a wonderful beta and a few typo checkers to give thanks to for this. I couldn't have done it without you lot, so thank you!  
>   
> Beta: [**White_Aster**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster)  
>  Typo Checkers: [**Some_Writer**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer) and [**Luffymarra**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luffymarra/pseuds/Luffymarra)
> 
> Theme Music: [**Panic! At The Disco - Casual Affair**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zyx0W5UhJGM)  
>   
>  Artist MasterPost: [**BethAdastra on Tumblr**](https://bethadastra-art.tumblr.com/post/174663601048/vices-and-virtues-mebb-is-here-and-im-so/)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW this chapter stop at -“You should be.”- and restart at -“Thank you,” Saren said without contempt or sarcasm.-

\- - -

\- - -

“Spectre Arterius.” Garrus greeted the Spectre with a professional subvocal hum as he sat down opposite to him across the narrow metal table. “Thank you for coming in.”

“Anything I can do to help Citadel Security,” the other male replied smoothly. There was a touch of sarcasm to his tone, subvocals flat in response to his own more natural voice. The lack of emotion was mildly off-putting, but it wasn’t as though this was the first time the young officer had heard it. “I see we aren’t in one of the usual interrogation rooms?”

Saren’s electric gaze took in the room, it wasn’t just their unique light blue colouring that made him use that word to describe them, but also the sharpness that lay within them. The vids didn’t do him justice. To the untrained eye he was merely looking around, but to the ex-Hierarchy sniper, he was cataloging weak points and exit strategies. It was a bland and empty office:  four grey walls, typical fluorescent lighting, a vent cover in the ceiling, a single sliding metal door behind him, the metal table between them and their two chairs.

Garrus tilted his head forward slightly and shook his head, no. “It seemed unnecessary considering you came here of your own volition, Spectre.”

“The Councilors are committed to working with C-Sec,” Saren told him in a bland tone, almost sounding bored as he brought his attention back to the Detective. “I’m not.”

“I’ll get to the point, then,” Garrus replied.

“You should.”

“There have been accusations brought against you that you’re a traitor to the Council, and it’s my responsibility to prove those allegations.”

The Spectre drummed his gauntlet-covered talons against the table, the metal on metal making a dull clicking noise. “Why you?”

“I volunteered.”

“You think there are no limits because of your relation, Detective.” The Spectre’s mandibles pulled into his cheeks, sneering at him. “That makes you brave.”

The Detective ignored his remark. It wasn’t the first time a suspect had brought up his father, and he seriously doubted it would be the last. His face remained blank, eyes unblinking. “What is your association with the Geth?”

“Geth. Hm…. Geth….” he considered the question a moment, electric eyes scanning the ceiling as he did so. There was no reason for him to be concerned:  he was a Spectre. Nothing should be able to touch him. “The Quarian abomination? What would I have to do with them?”

Garrus eyed Saren’s arm critically. It was an odd prosthetic limb that looked particularly suspicious if the old images of Geth were put up alongside him. With modern medical technology, especially Spectre-grade tech, he should have been able to get a cloned arm.

The officer’s question need not be said aloud. It was obvious. The Spectre still left the room silent for a moment before he spoke, answering his gaze.

“Well, Detective..., there’s nothing illegal about this.” He held up the artificial limb. “It happened many cycles ago. I barely remember it.”

“There is no statute of limitations on murder, Spectre Arterius. Even for you.”

Saren stood up and rounded his chair, arms crossed over his keel. “What happened to our friendly conversation, Vakarian? You switched to intimidation faster than I’d expected.”

“It was just a statement, Spectre. Why, are you nervous?”

“Now provocation,” he tsked. “During this phase of an interrogation, the interrogator typically invades the suspect’s personal space in order to increase his discomfort.” He dropped his hands, one palm sitting flat on the surface between them as he leaned inwards. “Do you want to invade my personal space, Detective?”

“Sit. Down.”

Saren grinned and after a moment backed off enough to sit back down in his chair, hands steepled in front of his face. “Your control is surprising. Go on.”

Garrus had to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying anything stupid. He was a damn good Detective, taught by the best of the best. He wouldn’t let the other turian break him with something so simple as a compliment. Instead, he cleared his throat and continued.

“5 days ago, Spectre Nihlus Kryik was on the human colony Eden Prime. He was checking out a new potential Spectre Candidate. A human no less. That must have pissed you off....”

A sigh.

“I expected more from you. This would be theme development: you’re presenting the crime through the eyes of the suspect. A basic tactic, Detective.”

Garrus bristled slightly before ignoring him. “Kryik was murdered and a valuable Prothean artifact was destroyed. The hit was professional, clean. You did it with your own hands. And now you’re covering it up. Denying the truth.”

Garrus pulled up his omnitool, showing him a holo of the dead Spectre. Hoping that the image might provoke a reaction. By all reports, Saren and Nihlus had been friends. It wasn’t in-character for Arterius to kill someone without a reason.

“Look at his face. Tell me you don’t harbour some kind of feelings about what you’ve done. He was your student. Arguably your best.”

“You know, Detective Vakarian, I think I do remember him.”

“Do tell….”

“He was a stuck-up colony kid reaching too high above his station. I taught him everything and it wasn’t enough. Someone should have warned him not to get in the way of the greater good. If they had? He might not have gotten eaten.” Saren stood up. “We’re done here.”

“No, we’re not.” Garrus stood as well, moving quickly to block the other turian from exiting. There was no hard evidence of Saren’s guilt, not a single shred of evidence beyond a single witness statement. There was no motive, no murder weapon. The Spectre was untouchable and only in this room because he chose to be. There was one thing left to try, and somehow he doubted it would work. “You’ve nearly admitted your guilt in this already. And that? Will eat you alive.”

Saren stopped barely a pace in front of him, and then he laughed. It wasn’t the laugh of a crazed turian or that of someone who was unsure of himself. It was different, almost pitying if Garrus had to name it.

“There are worse things in this galaxy than guilt, Vakarian. The sooner you learn that, the better.”

He made to push past the Detective, but the younger male wasn’t a pushover. He was a few inches taller than the Spectre and nearly as bulky in armour. “We aren’t done.”

“You may not be,” Saren told him coldly before shoving him aside with a slight biotic push. “But I am.”

Garrus was left alone in the office as the Spectre stormed out. He was no closer to proving the allegations against him, but now he was sure of the elder male’s guilt. He had done it. He had killed Nihlus Kryik in cold blood. But not for the joy of killing… there had been a reason.

He promised himself that he would find out what that reason was.

+-+-+

It didn’t take long for Executor Pallin to ream the young Detective out for calling in favours to bring Spectre Arterius in for questioning. Not only did he think it was a waste of resources, but it was a waste of Garrus’ time. Saren wasn’t going to be found guilty of anything.

He’s a Spectre.

There were just some things that couldn’t be helped, and this was one of them. Not only did Pallin not care about the death of a single Spectre--off of his station no less--but he cared even less about bringing the proverbial hammer down on someone who would escape prosecution regardless. The only reason he’d assigned anyone to the case in the first place was that the Council had forced it upon him.

He’d only assigned Garrus instead of one of his less-qualified officers because he’d asked for the case personally. He needed to know the truth, was willing to work the extra hours required, and fight through as much red tape as he could to get to justice.

It had been a dream of his to become a Spectre before it was squashed by his father, Saren had been something of a hero to him when he was in service. He deserved to be found innocent if he was, or guilty for that matter. Kryik was also a favourite of his from the news vids.

But now… it was almost over. He’d failed. There was not one shred of solid evidence against Arterius, and the Council would be meeting to discuss the case in the morning. Five days had not been enough time to perform his duties to the fullest extent of his ability; he hadn’t been allowed to examine the body, he hadn’t been given enough time to investigate the scene of the crime nor leave to do so, the Alliance hadn’t allowed him to speak with the witness or Commander Shepard for that matter.

Everything was classified.

He’d been caught up in so much red tape that he hadn’t stood a chance.

Garrus sighed and stood up from his desk to head for home, clocking out on his omnitool as he exited the building. There were a few useful hours left. Maybe some extranet research would turn up something on Saren’s other activities… or he’d be able to find the human Spectre candidate and ask them what had happened. Shepard had been there, they might know how to bring Saren down.

The walkways were starting to clear as he left C-Sec headquarters, as it was already late in the cycle. No one interfered with him as he walked in the direction of the rapid transit port, his size and the intimidation factor of his C-Sec armour tended to work in his favour to keep pedestrians out of his way. The artificial lighting was just dimming into twilight for the night cycle, resetting the population’s internal clocks as it did.

By the time he reached the transit hub, there was a cab waiting, and he slid inside, typing in the address before sitting back in the moderately comfortable seating. Usually, he’d walk it, but he needed the additional time today for research if he was going to have any hope of taking the Spectre down.

Just as he got comfortable, a notification in the corner of his visor popped up and peaked his interest. It was from an unknown sender to his personal extranet address. Garrus hummed in consideration for the barest of moments before he ran his usual spyware program and found the message was clean. He pulled it up, mandibles falling slack as he read the text.

//

_[From: Unknown Sender - Location: Unknown / Unknown / Unknown / Unknown]_

_[To: TrueShot - Location: Serpent Nebula / Widow / Citadel / Presidium]_

_[Subject: No Subject]_

_Vakarian._

_Do you want to learn how to properly interrogate a suspect? 0100 Citadel Standard time._

_Don’t be late._

_[End Message Text] - [Address Attached]_

//

The Detective felt his heartbeat start to rise as he read through the message a second time, and then a third. It was obviously Saren. There was no other explanation for it. He checked the time on his omnitool. He had just enough time to get home and change.

He had to go. There was no doubt about that. The only doubt in his mind was if he’d make it home alive.

+-+-+

Garrus arrived at the denoted address on his omnitool. He was in plainclothes, leaving his standardized C-Sec armour behind in an attempt to put Arterius at ease. Instead, he wore a simple pair of fitted black pants and a navy tunic that hugged his slimly muscled form. He might not have been able to trip him up in an official interrogation, but perhaps there was a chance he’d become complacent in his own space.

Over his left eye was his ever-present visor, which he could use to record the evening without arousing suspicion as he never took the damn thing off. By all appearances it was just an ordinary targeting visor, in reality, he’d modified it to Nanus and back. On his left hip he held a single concealed pistol along with a basic shield generator, he wasn’t about to step into Saren’s space without something to even the odds. The Spectre was a biotic, and by the reports a damn fine fighter. The Detective was no slouch, but Saren was probably better.

Garrus was intrigued by the Spectre's offer, but he wasn’t as stupid as the male seemed to think he was. He was a damn good cop, and it wasn’t just because of his father’s influence. He had a mind for it, he was a problem solver. Had he had it his way, he might’ve been an engineer instead, but law enforcement was in his blood, and thus here he was.

The skycar ride through to the Palaven ward had been a quiet one. Barely anyone else was out at this late hour. The apartment building denoted was unassuming, and if Garrus hadn’t been looking specifically for the address, he might have passed it by. ‘That’s probably the point,’ he mused as he hit the key to call the designated suite.

A bare moment after the buzzer went off, the door opened for the Detective with a happy little ping, the lock switching from foreboding red to a brilliant green. Garrus had been expecting to be greeted by a voice, but there was none. Just the door opening for him to enter. He took a deep breath and set his shoulders before striding inside. The lobby was just as bland as the building had been from the outside:  a long hallway was lined with benches that led towards a pair of elevators, some plants were strewn about, and the lighting was dim.

It felt like an apartment building on the homeworld. From the architecture to the climate controls and lighting. When Garrus took a long deep breath he found that even the air was scented properly. His own building, by contrast, felt very asari, too cool and bright, like the rest of the Citadel. The environment set his frayed nerves at ease. However, the elevator ride upwards was just as slow as one would expect on the station. Running at an elcor’s pace all the way up to the fifteenth floor.

When he arrived at the Spectre’s door, Garrus had to swallow down a touch of residual anxiety. Coming here probably wasn’t the smartest decision. Not only was he going against twelve or so C-Sec regulations by showing up at a suspect’s home off duty, but he was going to try to find a way to get Saren to confess his misdeeds to the council directly. Admit his guilt by choice. It was a last resort to try and salvage his mission.

There was also the matter of possibly learning to be better from someone who Garrus both respected and admired. A selfish reason to risk his career, and possibly his life over. It was quite possible that Saren had only asked him here to kill him.

The problem was that Garrus was too curious. He had wanted to be a Spectre before his father dashed his hopes of becoming one early in his service years, and learning something… anything… that would help him step out from behind his father’s shadow meant that he had to take the chance.

Before the Detective could change his mind, he hit the call button.

The door slid open for him within a few seconds, and Garrus stepped inside.

Just like the rest of the building, the unit was warm and dim. The perfect environment for relaxing, without delay Garrus continued inside. “Spectre Arterius? Hello?”

“Lock the door behind you.” Saren’s voice came from down the single hallway, but Garrus couldn’t see the male just yet. “Have a seat.”

Garrus looked around the room. It was well appointed even though it was a little small. He took a seat on the turian-styled couch, leaving his black leather boots on. The main room housed a  single couch, and one chair sitting across from it over a low kava table. Along one wall was a kitchenette with an island, and then there was the hallway back to what he assumed was a bedroom, bathroom, and possibly an office.

Minutes ticked by, enough that Garrus started to read through case reports on his visor’s display screen just to pass the time. Saren had asked him if he wanted to learn how to properly interrogate someone of a higher station, and he’d accepted. For all he knew this was part of that tactic. Make your suspect wait.

Just when Garrus was about to start fidgeting, the Spectre in question entered the room. He was also dressed down, yet more formally than the Detective. He wore a suit, all black, which was stark against his pale plates, even in the apartment’s dim light.

“I’m surprised you accepted my offer, Vakarian. I doubt your superiors would approve.”

Garrus’ mandibles held steady against his jawline, taking Saren in as he crossed the small room and remained standing behind the opposing chair. He waited in silence until the Spectre next chose to speak. This felt like an interrogation in its own right. He had to resist it, at least a little.

“Good. You at least understand the value of silence.” It was almost a compliment, and it took the younger turian a bit of effort to restrain a smile for the praise. “You believe me to be innocent then?”

“No. You’re guilty,” Garrus told him with conviction. “I just can’t prove it.”

Saren’s left brow-plate rose slightly, and he said nothing initially. Only moved to sit down across from him, the leather creaking under the Spectre’s weight. “Let us begin then, shall we?”

“On your ready.” Garrus nodded, his hand automatically rising in the Hierarchy gesture for continue.

Saren’s gaze followed the gesture before he locked eyes with his own. The change from conversational to businesslike was brusque and noticeable. Yet his tone didn’t become confrontational. Not yet. “A crime was committed last night and your name was mentioned, I was wondering if you could tell me where you were…”

Garrus mulled the question over for a moment, deciding that it was a reasonable question to start with. Fairly standard actually. “Sure, I was out on the Silversun Strip.”

“Hm… and were you alone?” his voice remained casual, almost warm in his questioning.

“No. A few of the other officers came too. Chellick, Decker, Amara.”

Saren sat back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other while reaching down around the back of the seat and pulling out an unassuming duffle bag that he tossed onto the table between them and said nothing about it. “Did you have anything to drink?

Without thinking, Garrus allowed his eyes to flash towards the bag. That was… a curiosity. “Yes, we had a few drinks.”

“How many?”

“A few. Three or four.” Curiosity was getting the better of him. “What’s in the bag?”

“Why?”

Garrus met the older male’s eyes straight on. His mandibles fluttered against his jaw as he tried to parse out the reasoning for the item. “I don’t know. You put it on the table. It must mean something...”

The stare that he got back from the Spectre was intense. Unnerving, not only in the way he did it but also in that it was unnatural. Silence had wedged itself between them, the pause in the conversation making him uncomfortable.

There was nothing stopping Saren from killing him right here on the spot, just because he felt like it. Killing Nihlus was only considered treason because he was a Spectre as well. No one would miss one more C-Sec beat cop. Vakarian Clan or not.

“Are you telling the truth? Were the four of you out together all night?”

Garrus swallowed down the discomfort but lost the staring contest when his eyes went back to the bag.

“Don’t look at that, look at me,” Saren snapped at him.

Glacial blue eyes snapped up from the bag back into the electric gaze of the Spectre. The change in his voice, the harshness, set off something deep down in his gut. It was almost like fear, but there was some kind of heat to it. Arousal. Garrus swallowed down the feeling, thrown off balance, he needed to use every ounce of his self-control to not fidget or flutter his mandibles.

A grin appeared on Saren’s face, and he sat back in his chair, relaxing into it as the harshness fell from his posture, but none of the heat left his gaze.

“That is how you properly throw someone of a higher station off balance, Vakarian. Set them at ease first, then provide a distraction of some sort and finally strike when they’re least expecting it.”

With a small flutter of his mandibles, Garrus relaxed a fraction as well, though he held the older male’s gaze sharply. “I appreciate the assistance, Spectre.”

“Do you still think I’m guilty?” Saren asked once again.

With more conviction than the first time, Garrus replied: “You are.”

Saren said nothing for a moment, only flicked his mandibles into an easy smirk. “Then why are you here?”

“I wasn’t about to lose out on an opportunity to learn from you,” the Detective replied honestly. “I wanted to be a Spectre when I was younger.”

“I am aware.”

Mentally, Garrus palmed his crest. Of course Saren had read up on him before going to the interrogation. He would know everything that there was to know about Garrus Vakarian that was on public record. Which was honestly most of the things he’d done in his life. “Of course you are.”

“You were close, too, as I recall,” Saren taunted him a little, or at least Garrus thought it was taunting until he continued: “You should consider applying again. Don’t let Clan stand in the way of the greater good.” The Spectre looked pointedly at his faceplates as he said it. Arterius was barefaced, though whether it was because of his Spectre status or his biotic abilities was unclear. Most Clans didn’t trust Spectres, Cabals even less.

“Why invite me here?”

Garrus wanted to take the pressure off of the old wound, and the other male accepted it. Saren stood up from his chair, walking to the kitchen and pulling out two glasses along with a bottle of brandy. A very expensive bottle. “Because there’s… something about you. A fire that I like. It’ll be needed in the future. Our people will need Spirits like yours.”

“How so?”

Garrus stayed still as the male poured two glasses of brandy and returned to the living space. Saren stood, looming over him for a moment before taking a sip from one of the glasses, humming warmly at the taste, before passing that same glass to the Detective. His gloved hand slid, seemingly unintentionally, against the Detective’s own. Not only was it the first hum Garrus had heard from the older turian but it was also proof that neither the drink nor the glass, was poisoned. Proof as much as Saren could offer him, at the least.

“That kind of information will come later, Garrus.”

He raised a brow-plate at the shift. Suddenly he wasn’t Vakarian or Detective, he was Garrus.

“You’ve piqued my curiosity, Spectre.”

“Saren,” he corrected around the mouth of his own glass before placing it down on the kava table and pulling at the clasps of his jacket. The Spectre left his back to the detective as his jacket gave way to an equally dark shirt, though his arms were now bare.

Garrus’ eyes examined Saren as he folded the jacket and placed it on the arm of his chair before sitting down to face him again. The artificial limb looked smaller than it had in armour, the wires that had connected it to his chest plate were gone and in their place were circular connection points. It didn’t look turian.

“Alright, Saren.” Garrus joined him in the drink, it was all he could do to keep himself from staring any longer. He wouldn’t have too much, not enough to impair himself, but enough that didn’t provoke suspicion for refusing the hospitality. “What more can you tell me now, then?”

The pale turian shook his head, expression becoming grave. “Something is coming. Something destructive, and if we don’t find a way to stop it then we will all die. Everything I do is for the purpose of galactic stability. It is my duty as a Council Spectre to preserve our races.”

Garrus blinked twice, the hand holding his glass lowering slowly to rest the drink on his knee while he took a moment to process what the Spectre had said. If it was true, then perhaps the Detective should be helping instead of hindering his efforts.

“That was vague.”

“For now.” Saren’s mandibles shifted in a smirk once again, almost as though that expression was the one most at home on his plates. The predatory glint in his eyes had not subsided if anything it had grown more intense. “In lieu of more information, there is something that you could help me with. Since I did help you.”

Garrus took a second sip of his brandy, which was indeed as excellent as the bottle suggested, and then placed the glass down on the table. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “And what might that be?”

“We all need a little... relief from time to time, Garrus. If you’re interested.”

The Detective jerked back, shocked by the offer. It took him a moment to wrap his head around the suggestion, blinking a few more times and shaking his head. That was… not what he had expected. “Are you serious?”

“I am never not serious,” his voice was emotionless and there was the barest hint of amused subvocals falling out from behind the silent mask. “I need strong turians on my side, and it is something that would help the both of us. You can’t prove I did anything, so your investigation is effectively over regardless of what happens tonight.”

Garrus fell back against the couch, a hand running along the length of his fringe, his eyes closing as he considered the opportunity. It was true. He had nothing solid, nothing that could prove Saren’s guilt, and he was too caught up in C-Sec’s red tape to do anything more. Saren would go free. And then there was the possibility that maybe… just maybe… Saren was telling the truth. Whatever he was doing was for the good of the Galaxy.

He was fighting for peace at any cost.

When Garrus opened his eyes again, Saren had relaxed back in his chair, swirling the brandy in his glass while he watched him think, the look on his pale plates positively ravenous. Although there was something else there, a deeper kind of longing he hadn’t expected to find in the Spectre’s eyes.

Garrus took a moment to examine Saren from a personal, instead of a professional, viewpoint. The sheen of his plates was a little dimmer than it should have been, the set of his shoulders not quite as hard as it was in the vids. Realisation dawned on the young Detective all of the sudden. Saren Arterius was making himself sick from stress. He needed an outlet. One that Garrus could provide… and he honestly did look up to him, had since he was a fledge back in basic.

“How would this work?” Garrus asked, only somewhat hesitant.

That hungry look was turned onto the rest of him, electricity in Saren’s gaze scanning him from fringe to spurs as the Spectre stood up from his seat and crossed the room. Saren placed the empty glass on the table before pressing a hand to the centre of his keel and pushing Garrus back harder into the couch cushion.

Saren leaned inwards, bringing their faces closer together.

“Have you received before?”

Garrus’s eyes flicked upwards towards the Spectre. That was about how he expected the positioning to be, but the want being allowed to roll out of Saren's tones now was audible and made Garrus a little hungry for the encounter as well. “Not often, but yes.”

There was a small clicking sound as the first of the snaps on Garrus' tunic was undone. “And you enjoyed yourself?”

“Well enough.” Garrus nodded once, looking up only with his eyes and keeping his throat covered for the moment while letting himself be undressed. He might be interested in sex, but Saren was going to have to work for it, at least a little. “Your preferences?”

“You will submit willingly to me, Detective.” A second snap followed his demand, and a small rustle of fabric came next as the tunic fell away to expose the interior of his cowl. “I do not take unwilling partners.”

“I consent.”

There was a needy growl then, possessive almost, as Saren removed one of his gloves with his teeth. “Your safeword is Nanus. If you are unable to speak tap me deliberately three times. Understood?”

“Yes,” Garrus replied without flinching, it was a little more formal of an arrangement than he was used to, but most casual couplings between turians did have some basic safeties applied to them. They were a predator species, teeth and claws and raw strength could all be dangerous when one didn’t understand their partner’s limits.

A safeword wasn’t unheard of. If anything it was almost expected with a power dynamic like this one, where Saren was so far above him on the proverbial totem pole. It gave Garrus an out, and since the Spectre willingly gave it to him that meant if he did need it, he could use it without reprimand. It would go against Saren’s honour to deny Garrus escape if he asked.

“Good.” Saren’s bare hand slid inside the rim of his cowl slowly, his palm hotter than hot against his light brown hide. He was deliberate, the pressure firm against him. “Anything I should be made aware of?”

Garrus hummed in consideration for a moment, holding the male’s gaze above him. He could feel the heat pouring off of him now, the proximity electrifying. It was almost as though Garrus could smell the underlying eezo beneath the surface scent of gun oil and brandy. “Nothing in particular. Although I am not generally interested in pain for pain’s sake.”

Saren just grinned at him for a moment before dropping his weight a little further down and bringing his mouth up against the Detective’s aural canal. “Don’t worry. You’ll beg me for more.”

The solid weight of his sidearm disappeared as the Spectre removed it from its concealed location and placed it on the arm of the couch. It was still within easy reach of either of them, yet neither of the turians seemed to be too concerned with it for the moment.

The Detective scoffed in good humour. “And I thought I was the cocky one.”

“You are,” Saren chuckled in that deep rumbling tone his voice had picked up. It was almost teasing in its levity. “Let’s hope neither of us is without merit for it.”

Saren’s voice dropped an octave more as his tongue rasped along the length of Garrus’ mandible and then whispered -relax-.

Garrus let out a deep shuddering breath as he attempted to follow the order.

Without warning, the hand tracing the sniper’s collar pulled upwards. It caught his face, thumb on one side and fingers on the other. Saren applied even pressure against the underside of his jaw, just tight enough to excite rather than injure him. For his part, Garrus was surprised that he managed to keep his hands down at his sides. He breathed through his nose, slow and even, eyes remaining on Saren and not wavering towards the pistol. He allowed the Spectre to do as he wished for the moment.

When Garrus didn’t retaliate, Saren hummed an approving tone and tilted his head further away. The movement gave him access to the younger male’s neck. Without waiting he took advantage of the space and brought his maw down upon the bare expanse of hide. Mouth plates nipped down the side of Garrus’ neck, just harsh enough to leave small purpling marks. They’d disappear by morning as long as the Biotic didn’t go much harder.

“Do you want this?” Saren mumbled against his hide while his hand pressed down slightly harder against his new partner’s throat. “Do you like it?”

Garrus wasn’t allowed the space to answer with words, his voice cut off by the pressure against his throat. It made him slightly dizzy, but his subvocals rolled in an affirmative all the same. He’d never been controlled quite like this, never been with a partner so high above his own station before. Sure, there had been that one foray with his ex-Commanding Officer after he’d graduated from basic. But even she hadn’t been quite like this.

“Good.” Saren nipped a little harder as he let off some on Garrus’ throat, giving him his breath back.

With the given space, Garrus realized that he hadn’t done anything on his own yet. So he slowly brought his hands upwards to start pulling at the clasps of Saren’s shirt. He wanted to see more of that unique pale hide and plate, feel it under his fingertips. Garrus got so far as to put his talons around the first snap before he was suddenly frozen.

“Ah ah ah... Detective.”

Garrus’ hands were pulled back down to his sides by the unseen force that was the other male’s biotics. That subtle eezo scent was immediately overpowering, intoxicating almost. “What?”

“I didn’t say you could touch,” Saren reprimanded as he pulled away to stand directly in front of him on the couch. The hand left his throat, and he trailed a single talon along the length of his still-frozen mandible. “Undress yourself instead.”

The stasis field dropped.

Without delay, Garrus pulled at the remaining clasps on his shirt. His eyes fixed to the electric pair watching him with rapt attention. There was something to be said for enthusiastic consent, and Saren seemed to appreciate the fever with which he divested himself of his tunic. The sniper could already feel his plates starting to shift in anticipation, and if he wasn’t mistaken the heady scent of Saren’s arousal started to fill the room too.

Once his top was off, the Biotic stepped away and beckoned him to stand with his real hand. Saren eyed the Sniper critically, taking in his lean build and wiry muscle. Garrus watched him just as closely, his shoulders rising and falling with the slight increase arousal brought to his heart rate and breathing.

Saren’s hand reached out and slid down the length of his chest, coming to rest on his waist before he grabbed the waistband of his pants and pulled the slightly taller turian towards himself. Garrus was thrown slightly off balance, his own hands needing to grab for Saren’s shoulders to steady himself.

“Finish stripping, Vakarian.”

He was shamelessly drawn in by the Spectre. His strength, his scent, his voice.

“Yeah… okay.”

Saren let him go with a small shove, before stooping down to grab his glass off of the kava table and head to the kitchen. By the time he turned back around, Garrus had his visor and boots off and he had stood back up from the couch again. Garrus caught the electric eyes with his own glacial blues, staring deliberately into them as he flicked open the clasp of his pants and began pulling them down his legs.

“Come here,” Saren told him.

Garrus complied without question, kicking off his pants as he went. But when he arrived in front of the Spectre a hand was held out, two fingers raised in the standard Hierarchy signal for stop, look.

“Clean that up.”

“What?”

After he took a sip from his brandy, Saren gestured with the glass towards the mess of clothing and boots strewn about his living space. Garrus turned half around, and he supposed that was… fair. The pants were half inside out on the floor, the tunic was thrown over the back of the couch, and his boots lying on their sides underneath the table, his visor was sitting haphazardly on the edge of the couch beside his pistol.

He shrugged, the human gesture one he’d picked up from a C-Sec colleague, and tidied up after himself. The boots were placed neatly beside one another at the foot of the couch, and his clothes were folded and placed on the table beside the mysterious bag from earlier. The pistol, visor and shield generator were neatly placed on top of his clothing pile.

Garrus took his glass with him to the kitchen, finishing off the clear blue liquid inside as he stopped beside Saren’s still form. This time as he drank he allowed the Spectre to see just a hint of his throat, enticing him back into the mood they’d had a few minutes prior.

“Better?” the Sniper asked as he placed the glass down on the countertop. He kept a slight bit of distance between them, not brave enough to enter his personal space beyond the boundary that Saren himself set.

“Yes.”

The Spectre had removed his other glove while Garrus had been gone. His false hand looked very different than the real one now that the Detective took the time to look at it more closely. It was metallic and ice cold instead of burning hot as Saren grabbed ahold of his hip and stepped in front of him, pinning his hips to the countertop and bringing their chests flush against one another. Garrus stifled a grasp at the chill. Like most turians, he didn’t like the cold. It was especially strange as the warm hand wrapped around the back of his neck, the contrast messing with his head in the weirdest of ways.

Saren forcibly tilted his head away, allowing his mouth to come down on the side of his tawny brown neck again. Like when they’d been on the couch, Saren nipped at the tender hide, following the bites up with a rasp of his rough tongue. When he’d reach Garrus’ aural canal again, he dropped his voice an octave, the words came out dark and dripping with seductive undertones.

“Are you afraid of me, Garrus?”

“N-no,” he replied lamely, almost breathless from the attention he was being paid. He hadn’t expected anything like this when he waltzed into Saren’s apartment today. To suddenly be under his control with barely a touch. It was intoxicating. He was intoxicating. Unconsciously, Garrus’ head tilted a little further back, baring his throat to the powerful male in front of him.

Even Saren's laugh was provocative, luring him in. “You should be.”

It had barely been five minutes, barely enough time to establish how this was going to go, and Garrus could already feel his plates shifting further apart. A line of preparatory fluid dripped out from the top of his seam and down along the slight opening, leaving a glistening trail behind it.

Of course Saren noticed. He seemed to notice everything. And he looked down Garrus' lean abdomen with a single raised brow-plate. “Eager, aren’t you?”

Garrus didn’t trust his voice, he nodded once in response instead.

The Spectre’s artificial hand left his hip and traced the line of his seam ever so slowly, making Garrus shiver as he took his sweet time to wipe up the droplet before bringing it up between them. He offered his fingers to the Detective in a not-so-subtle order to clean them off. Garrus did so without hesitation, his long blue tongue leaving his mouth and complying with the unspoken command. He doubted it did anything for Saren, he wouldn’t feel the damp slide of his tongue against the metal of his fingers, but Garrus was determined to make a good show of it for him.

“On your knees,” Saren told him once he was done, and again the Sniper complied. The Spectre took his time undoing his pants and exposing his still fully closed slit to the younger male. Eyes never leaving Garrus’. “Since you’re so eager, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind catching me up.”

This part was about the same no matter who your partner was; male or female of his species it didn’t matter. Both needed to be coaxed open either by high arousal in his case, or enticed by tongue and hands as it appeared Saren needed. So he brought his mouth to bear on the Spectre’s seam, laving along the length to start while he kept his gaze on Saren’s. His hands slid along his hard thighs and upwards to his hips. Anything to provide him with enough pleasure to open.

Saren seemed to be enjoying it at the least. His breaths had sped up and both of his hands had grabbed ahold of his shoulders, that intense gaze never leaving his own eyes.

When it appeared Garrus’ initial attempts weren’t working fast enough, he dropped his attention entirely to the task and closed his eyes. He drew designs along the seam with the tip of his tongue, then as the seam began to part he seized the opening and pressed inside. Saliva dripping down his chin as he kept going, relentless in trying to bring his partner pleasure.

Saren was the instigator tonight, but Garrus was determined to be enthusiastic.

It took a handful of minutes, but the strangled groan as Saren’s opening finally came apart and he descended into the open air was worth the effort. The Detective glanced upwards again. Saren’s eyes were closed and he was panting in earnest now, his hips rolled towards the kneeling turian and Garrus kept up his attention, licking along the sides of his length and around his thick base.

“Enough,” Saren told him after a handful of minutes had passed them by. Garrus looked up, sliding his tongue along the underside of his length one final time before backing off as requested. “Go stand in front of the couch.”

The Detective obeyed, resisting the urge to continue touching his partner as he stood up. It was an odd feeling to want to be ordered around, he was used to the opposite. Perhaps that made him a worse turian, or maybe it made him better?

All the same, he went over to the turian-styled couch and waited for his next instruction. Saren followed and stopped him from turning around by pressing himself up against Garrus’ back. The feeling of the Spectre’s heated erection trapped against his lower back was erotic, and when Saren’s metal hand pushed him forwards to kneel on the cushions he complied.

“Stay.”

The word was growled into the Detective’s aural canal before he felt Saren leave him, and the sound of fabric shifting could be heard next as he unclasped the duffle bag he’d thrown onto the table earlier. The realization that Saren had been planning exactly this all along was both intriguing and unnerving. He’d walked right into Saren’s talons.

When the elder male returned, he pressed himself up against Garrus’ back again and pushed him forwards so that he needed to rest his arms on the back of the couch for balance. Garrus wished that he could feel plate on plate, but instead Saren was still mostly clothed. Only his pants were undone. Absently Garrus realized it was part of the powerplay, to disallow him the same sensations and ability to touch warm hide.

“Do you like this, Garrus?” Saren asked as he slid his real hand along the curve of the Detective’s hip. He was wearing a glove again, but it wasn’t made of cloth or leather, it was some kind of soft rubber instead. The metallic hand began tracing his seam, in sharp contrast to the other one.

“Yes.” He dropped his crest down onto his forearms, offering the back of his neck to the Spectre in a gesture of trust and acceptance for the positioning. He wasn’t embarrassed, there was no need to be.

There was an approving growl before Saren began to prod at his rear plating. The reasoning behind the glove made sense the more Garrus thought about it and the more he opened. It was soft against his sensitive insides and far more pleasant than sharp talons tended to be, the Biotic didn’t need to be careful as he pressed inside. Garrus had heard about the accessory before but had never encountered anyone who used one. His own talons were sharp, as such he preferred to open partners with his tongue. Those who preferred using hands generally kept their talons dulled or used a knuckle to open their partners up, or the sides of a finger instead.

Saren had found a way around the usual preference, and the Detective was finding that he liked it. He liked it a lot.

Before long, Garrus’ plates were spread both front and rear. His heated length was being teased by the cool metal of Saren’s hand while he was spread further open by insistent fingers in his cloaca. The duality had him moaning. “More…”

“You’re prepared?” Saren confirmed as he drew out one long stroke of his hand, from base to tip. So painstakingly slow that Garrus had to buck against his hand to make him finish.

“I am, I want you.”

The Spectre growled as he withdrew his fingers and pressed himself against the curve of his ass. The glove was gone just as fast as it had appeared, and both of Saren’s hands grabbed hold of Garrus’ hips to still the slight rocking motion he’d begun to get more contact. “Want me to what?”

“Fuck me,” Garrus breathed in a strained voice.

Without room for ambiguity in his statement, Saren drove himself inside of Garrus’ tight heat until he hilted entirely. His teeth came down on the offered hide at the back of the Detective’s neck and he held him in place as he began a punishing pace. Garrus arched his back into Saren’s chest as he let out a long sigh of relief. He needed this.

Saren’s claws dug into his mark’s hips and he rode him hard, drawing the thrusts out along his entire hard length from tip to hilt. He slammed plate against plate without regard for noise in the otherwise silent apartment. Soon Garrus’ second voice began to vocalize his enjoyment, his tone needy and aching for more. “Nughh…. More….”

Garrus heard a snarl against the back of his neck and felt the pace increase a fraction. His hands tightened their grip on the back of the couch as he pressed himself into each motion, making the movements a little rougher.

It felt right, being held in place like this for a true stress relief session. It almost felt like he was back in primary service, working off a post-mission high. Saren had asked for help, and Garrus was willing and able, to provide it. He was positive that he wasn’t going to be left wanting at the end of the night, not if this was the ferocity that his one-time partner was going to be working with.

By the time the motion of Saren’s hips started to stutter, Garrus had been brought just to the edge of orgasm. His eyes were shut and his muscles tense. The Spectre was angled to just barely miss the perfect spot inside of him, Garrus needed just a little push to fall over the edge and brushing against his testicles might just do it.

“Close...” Garrus warned around a groan.

Saren grunted an affirmative as he released Garrus’ neck and hips. The metallic hand slid up his keel, pulling the Detective up by his throat so that they were flush together, Garrus’ back against Saren’s chest. The Spectre’s real hand wrapped around the base of Garrus’ cock, tightening just enough to hold off the orgasm. The combination of tightness, hot and cold, had him writhing.

“Nh… Sa… Saren… fuck.”

“Not yet,” he rasped. “You can wait.”

The change in angle had Saren’s member pressed directly up against the sweet spot and Garrus’ legs trembled. He was absolutely aching for an ending. His talons scratched against the tight hold on his throat, but they did nothing against the metallic arm other than making noise as his talons scrapped the unforgiving metal.

Saren’s own orgasm came in a rather mute fashion, all of the normal cues there but none of the typical primal sounds. He was silent as he emptied himself deep inside of Garrus’ cloaca and held him in place with a tight grip.

The high Garrus had been riding faded out with the last few dragging thrusts and Saren pulled himself free before he could swell to keep the cum inside. Instead, there was a wet pop and a feeling of dampness as it dripped out and down the interior of Garrus’ thighs. When the Spectre’s hands left him, he collapsed forwards onto the couch, catching himself with his hands.

Saren pulled away, walking off towards the kitchen without a word.

It took Garrus a moment to stow the wave of anger before he stood up straight and looked over at the Spectre. A moment ago he was ready to snarl at him for edging him like that, but as he took in the defeated line of the older male’s shoulders he stopped.

Something wasn’t right.

His erection faded a little more at the sight, Saren’s palms were flat against the countertop and he was staring, crest down, at the bottle of brandy. As though it could tell him something, or reveal secrets to him. From a moment ago, in the thralls of passion, to this…. Garrus wracked his brain trying to figure out what had changed.

“Arterius, what’s wrong?”

The Spectre huffed a humourless laugh. “That’s your question?”

Garrus flinched away before stiffening his shoulders and walking towards the male. “Yeah. It is. Something’s going on in that head of yours, I want to know what it is.”

“Why?” he snapped, tilting his head just enough to glare at the Detective’s approach.

“Because I don’t see anyone else around here who’d ask you that,” Garrus replied with a cursory glance around the apartment. The entire unit was specifically built with a single occupant in mind. From the size to the placement of the amenities, to the spare personal gear that was spread about. “What have you got to lose telling me?”

There was a low growl of contempt for a moment as Saren weighed his options.

“I don’t feel turian.”

Garrus’ head tilted to the side, silently asking the Spectre to elaborate. Saren dropped his shoulders as he sighed, then he poured out two glasses of brandy and slid one towards the Detective before taking a long sip of his own. Garrus leaned against the counter beside him, taking the offered drink and sipping it while he waited.

Saren grit his teeth, his words indignant. “I already told you. There’s something coming for us, and I have to stop them.”

“That sounds fairly turian to me,” Garrus suggested with a small shrug. He didn’t understand what Saren meant. What if what he said was true? If there was some kind of threat coming for the Galaxy then, as the Council protectors, the turians would act. The first of which would be the Spectres, followed by the rest of the Hierarchy.

“To stop them, I’ve had to give up part of myself.” He raised his metallic arm as a show of something he’d lost to this cause. “I thought this would help.”

Saren left the statement intentionally vague. Garrus wasn’t sure if he was referring to the arm or this evening. His gut said the latter.

“Want to try something else?” the Detective asked as he finished another sip of his drink and placed the glass down on the countertop with a small clink. Saren turned towards him, leaning his hip against the countertop and crossing his arms over his keel. “Something to make you feel more turian.”

“And what do you suggest?”

Garrus’ mandibles shifted into a smirk. “Sparring?”

“I’d kill you,” Saren told him without missing a beat.

The Detective laughed, shoving himself off of the counter to stand tall in front of the stoic Spectre. Garrus was one of the top hand to hand combatants in the Hierarchy. He’d won numerous competitions in service and had kept his skills sharp ever since. He had no doubt in his mind that Saren was better, but Garrus also knew that he would at least be able to give Saren a challenge.

“The point of sparring is that you don’t kill your partner. Surely you have more control than that,” Garrus goaded him before he growled in a playful manner and slid his left foot back into a ready pose when he moved to the centre of the room. He was back in his plates already, though it wouldn’t take much to coax him into a sexual mindset. There was more than one way to work off stress.

Saren sighed, but he did follow the Detective. “Rules?”

“Standard, no biotics. Fight for the pin.”

“So be it.”

Saren didn’t dawdle. He immediately advanced on his sparring partner by taking a test swipe towards Garrus’ throat. The strike was blocked easily, as were the next two that followed. Each of Saren’s strikes increased in power and speed. Garrus started to fight back, instead of playing pure defence, he began to throw his own combinations into the fray.

It went on like that for a minute or so before the honour of first blood went to Saren. A well-timed swipe of his talons and a poorly placed block left a line of cobalt on the floor. The unplated underside of Garrus’ arm split open a few centimetres. Not enough to take him out of the spar, but enough that Saren slowed a fraction. He didn’t apologize.

Within a matter of minutes, the pair found a better rhythm.

They worked well together once Saren found a speed and weight to his strikes that worked without injuring the Detective. Garrus already knew how hard was appropriate for a sparring match, but it seemed as though the Spectre had forgotten. It had been too long since he’d been given an opportunity for a friendly match.

The longer they went, the more riled up Garrus felt himself getting. And by the look of it, Saren was too. Only when he noticed a change in the Spectre’s eyes did the sniper begin to change his tactics. He switched from mainly strikes to working at capturing Saren in a hold, his hands lingering on the less plated parts of Saren’s body and focusing more on enticing the elder male. Much to his own body’s detriment.

Garrus wound up with a few more scrapes before he finally had a chance to get Saren to the ground. He used his size to manhandle the slightly shorter turian to the floor, a powerful shoulder check to the midsection sending the two of them reeling. They hit the floor with a dull thump and were on each other before the proverbial dust had a chance to settle.

Without difficulty, Saren had managed to spin them to land on top of Garrus. He sent strikes in the direction of the Detective’s head, and Garrus did his best to block and destabilize his opponent. It seemed as though Saren was finally finding the right strength and speed to use to keep the fight interesting. The Spectre’s mandibles had shifted from nonchalance into a slight smirk.

The opportunity to turn the tides came not long after Garrus realized Saren was enjoying himself. He planted his feet on the floor and thrust his hips upwards while grabbing hold of the Spectre’s shirt and using the paired movements as leverage to throw him off. Saren grunted in discontent as he hit the floor, and he was given no time to recover as Garrus was on top of him again, his plates partway spread for the second time that night. Both were riled up.

Before the strikes could begin again, Garrus took the spar in a different direction. His hips ground down into the Spectre's, and he brought his mouth to bear on Saren’s mandible. While Garrus licked along the length of his pale white appendage and back to the zygomatic horn that protruded out from a normal turian fringe, Saren grabbed hold of his hip with his metallic hand and the other reached upwards to the low table and into the duffle bag.

A mildly electric noise sounded off as Saren grabbed hold of Garrus’ wrist.

“What was that?” the Detective asked as he pulled away from his enjoyable teasing task.

“There’s more I want to do to you tonight, Garrus,” Saren told him as that intense eezo smell returned and Garrus could feel himself be trapped within a biotic field once again before he’d even had time to find out what the biotic was up to.

“Yeah?”

“You are still consenting?” Saren confirmed as he slipped out from underneath Garrus and onto his back. His erection pressed into the Detective’s rear plating as Saren shoved him face first into the floor to bring Garrus’ arms both behind his back. It didn’t hurt, but the sudden shift in power dynamic did startle the younger turian a little.

What startled Garrus the most wasn’t the fact that Saren had just cuffed him and took complete control, but that he actually liked it. He swallowed the feeling and attempted to slow his breaths as he replied. “Have I used the word you’ve given me?”

“No,” Saren answered before he clasped the second cuff around Garrus’ free wrist and pulled the two of them up with slight biotic assistance. He circled around the Detective and let him stand freely.

When Garrus could see Saren’s face, he saw the predator shift back to the forefront. His pupils were dilated with lust, his nasal plates shifted as he scented the air and when he spoke next, his voice was back to that husky lingering tone. Saren stepped in close, words barely above a whisper. “I’m going to ruin you.”

Before the Detective could even process what the Spectre had said, he was being pulled towards the end of the hallway and was roughly shoved inside the mystery room Saren had come out of earlier on. His back impacted the centre of a sleeping nest before he knew where he was.

It was dark, Garrus’ eyes needed a moment to adjust and once they did he realized this was the Spectre’s bedroom. The sheets beneath him were silky smooth all in natural colours from their shared homeworld of silvers and greys. There was little else in the room considering its moderate size, but somehow it fit the spartan Spectre. A lounge chair sat beside an open door that appeared to be an attached ensuite washroom. There was a small table beside the nest with a lamp and another by the chair that had a few datapads stacked neatly on top of it.

Garrus felt a little bad that he was staining the sheets with the few cuts he’d picked up in the spar, but if Saren cared at all then he didn’t show it. The Spectre had left the room after shoving him down into the nest and was only just returning now. Saren had shed his clothing and his gaze was electric as he eyed up his prize, or was it prey?

Though trapped, Garrus was just as interested in his aggressor. His glacial eyes took in the long pale angles of plate and the bulk of Saren’s muscles. He was a little thicker than the average turian and considering he was a biotic too that meant he must have to eat an immense amount of food to stay that way. The dark grey metal of Saren’s arm stood out against his near-white plates, angry blue and purple scars surrounded the connection providing evidence that it was still a fresh wound.

The strength in Saren’s limbs was offset by the grace with which he moved as the Spectre dropped down into the nest. The padding gave under his weight as he climbed on top of Garrus and half rolled him to unlock his hands. Before the Detective could move them of his own accord, Saren had reattached them above his head to the framing. The click of the handcuffs reattaching seemed to satisfy him as he made a noise of approval when Garrus tested the bindings.

Even though the Detective didn’t have control of his arms, he was able to take advantage of Saren’s stretched-out positioning. He swiped his tongue along the expanse of bare arm he was given within reach of his mouth. Saren grabbed his jaw and shoved his head to the side, taking a long lick up the side of his neck over the pulse point to assert his control.

“Still eager?” Saren growled, causing Garrus to shiver as the Spectre’s metal hand slid down the length of his keel, and Saren’s mandibles flicked into a grin. “I’m waiting.”

“Yes,” Garrus forced out around a groan. “More.”

Saren continued lower, tracing the trapped turian’s seam with the tips of his chilled fingers. Whenever Garrus attempted to get more contact with the appendages by raising his hips, Saren pulled away. Giving him nothing. That grin of his stayed firmly in place as he continued the sweet torture. Breath was taken, his hide was set alight with small nips and scrapes of talons, and everywhere but where Garrus needed Saren most was touched.

“Saren… pl-please… nughh… more…” Garrus strained against the cuffs, and they made a satisfying clank against the nest support but had no give.

“Close your eyes,” Saren ordered in a growl against his aural canal as he stopped his ministrations. Garrus complied. He’d do just about anything to get a little more sensation right about now. “Now wait.”

The bed dipped for a moment on his right side as the Spectre moved to grab something. The sound of fabric moving caught his attention, and before Garrus could open his eyes to see what it was the world darkened through his eyelids and a cloth was secured behind his head. He tensed up underneath Saren, not liking his sight being removed from the situation.

“Saren-” Garrus began, his voice dropping below its usual register to display his distaste.  

“Wait.” Saren snapped and held for a moment to see if he’d complain further or use his safe word. When the Detective nodded instead, the Spectre began moving again. This time his tongue finally slid lower on the pinned turian’s body, past his neck and throat down across keel to his more sensitive waist.

Gradually, Garrus relaxed under the continued assault against his more sensitive places. Saren’s tongue was warm and his breath damp against his hide. With his sight gone, Garrus was more easily able to focus on the sensations and the scent in the room. Before long, the Detective was well worked up again. His mouth was parted in a pant as his chest rose and fell rapidly, his hips rolled into any touch Saren gave him, and his length was steel hard and dripping.

The metal hand left for a moment, and when it returned it was colder than before. Garrus actually yelped and shied away from the touch. “Damn it that’s cold!”

Saren chuckled against his hip, deliberately skating the ice cold metal down his hide. “Is it?”

“Ye-yeah…” Garrus moaned as Saren’s hand traced the angle of his hip spur and then up along the side of his length. The hand left again and this time an actual piece of ice was in his talons when the hand returned. “Oh…” he gasped, his eyes squeezing shut under the blindfold. “Oh damn.”

“That’s it…” Saren encouraged him, his tongue following along after the ice passed his waist and then down to his hips. “You like it, don’t you?”

“Maybe.” The Spectre’s tongue ran along the length of his member for the first time, following the ice. After that Garrus didn’t even attempt to fight the long, dual-toned cry that fell from his mouth. ‘Yessssss…. Fuck. Yes.”

Garrus’ length was weeping from neglect. He’d been riled up for so long now each proper touch felt like nirvana. Saren was pushing him to the brink with each and every swipe of his tongue, every touch of his warm and then his cool hand. Fire and ice were playing havoc with his nerves, and he honestly did love every second of it.

“Need you,” Garrus whined as he tried to capture Saren with his legs. He wrapped his ankles around the Spectre’s calves and spurs, linking the pair of them together. “Saren, I need you inside of me.”

“As you wish.”

There was no preamble this time, Saren shoved himself deep inside of Garrus without warning or hesitation. The younger turian was well prepared from earlier and had fallen so far open that there was barely any resistance as the Spectre pushed in. The pace Saren started was moderate at first, more focused on adding strength to his thrusts than he was on the speed. Beneath him, Garrus writhed.

“Oh that’s good…” the Detective moaned and his head fell back against the pillows as he gave himself over fully to the Spectre above him. Saren kept up the pace for a handful of thrusts before he started to lose the rhythm, his talons dug welts into the Sniper’s hips, and his teeth gnashed together in his maw.

Saren was rough and unrelenting, all-powerful over the Detective at this moment as he tore into him. From what Garrus could feel, Saren’s spine was tighter than a bowstring and his breaths were just as ragged as his own.

It didn’t take long before Garrus was drawing close to the edge once again. He needed a release, and he needed it soon. As much as he could, Garrus pressed into the thrusts. The sound of plate colliding with plate echoed in the room over the sound of their voices.

They went on for a handful of minutes, riding the edge before Garrus finally exploded. He had been so pent up from earlier that his release was one of the most intense of his life. His body was rigid, and he shuddered as the end took over, blowing stars behind his eyelids.

Above him, he felt Saren’s crest impact his keel as he too came apart. This time was a little less subdued with his voice and more intimate with his actions. Saren took his time, allowing the relief to wash over him as he released and swelled inside of Garrus. A few minutes passed in silence save for panted breaths and the subtle scrape of plate as they brushed together when their breaths became deeper.

When it was time to pull out, Saren was almost reluctant it seemed. As though he didn’t want to go back to reality. He did so regardless, unclasping Garrus’ cuffs before pulling out with a low groan of remorse.

Saren sat up, remaining between the Detective’s thighs for a moment. Garrus pushed himself up on his elbows after pulling the blindfold down, allowing the loose fabric to collect inside of his cowl. The pair watched one another for a moment before either spoke.

“Thank you,” Saren said without contempt or sarcasm. “It worked. For now at least.”

“If what you’ve told me is true? That what you’re doing is for the good of the Galaxy…” Garrus cut off, unsure of how to phrase his feelings. Instead, he looked away, lame in his ending. “I’m glad to be of help.”

The Spectre nodded and stood just as gracefully as he had climbed on top of him minutes ago. He was like water, fluid in his movements despite his bulk. It drew Garrus in again and he found he couldn’t take his eyes off Saren’s angles. Regardless of his recent finish, Garrus wanted more.

Saren had different ideas though as he headed for the door. He stopped with one hand on the frame, half looking back as he said his piece. “When the time is right we will need every pair of talons, Garrus. We will see one another again.”

It took Garrus a few minutes to follow, at first he was too dumbfounded by the abrupt shift in the Spectre. The stress that had fallen from his body not minutes ago was back in full force.

“Saren, wait!”

In the living space, Saren was already half dressed. He was unmoving, expression unreadable as he stared down at his artificial hand. Garrus watched him from the entryway for a moment, trying to decide what his next action should be.

Then, like a gear unsticking, Saren was in motion again, pulling his tunic on and pointedly not looking up from his task.

The Detective lost his earlier hesitance, and he stepped directly into the Spectre’s personal space. One of Garrus’ bare hands slid along Saren’s jaw and pulled his face up to lock eyes.

“Let me help you-”

There was little warning. Saren growled and shoved Garrus back with his biotics. His back impacted the wall and the Spectre’s hand found his neck again. “Do not think you know me because of this, Vakarian.”

Garrus nodded minutely, unable to speak with Saren’s hand clamped down so hard over his throat. His eyes were wild, the snarl deafening. Garrus’ talons scratched against the metal as his feet were lifted off the ground. He was at Saren’s mercy and not in a way that made him comfortable. Had he been able to speak, Nanus would have been shouted.

“There is no helping, don’t you see? They are coming! Nothing you can do will stop them. The only thing we can do is find a way to survive. I will find it. I must.”

Saren dropped him, and Garrus slid down the wall, gasping for air. One of the Detective’s hands rubbed at his throat, covering the already bruising hide. He watched on as Saren finished dressing and headed for the door.

“I no longer have need of this place,” Saren told him without emotion. “Leave or remain, I do not care.”

The sound of the door closing behind the Spectre was so final it made Garrus curl in on himself. There was a sinking feeling deep in his gut, that everything Saren had told him was true. The weight of the entire Galaxy was settled on his pale shoulders. At that moment, the Detective vowed to help in whatever way he could. He too refused to believe that extinction was an option.

There had to be another way.

\- - -

\- - -


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two! Brought to you by procrastinating finishing other stories in favour of playing with these two wonderful boys... I regret nothing.
> 
> I have two wonderful betas to give thanks to for this. Thank you [**White_Aster**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster) and [**Some_Writer**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer)!
> 
> Theme Music: [**Bring Me The Horizon - Avalanche**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UNaYpBpRJOY)  
>   
> 

**Chapter 2**

\- - -

Garrus sat on the floor a long time before pulling himself up. The apartment somehow seemed barren without Saren in it, despite nothing else having changed. He had to get moving if he was going to make it home with enough time to rest before the Spectre’s tribunal with the Council.

A quick glance at his omnitool told him there wouldn’t be much time at all.

With Saren gone, seemingly abandoning his apartment, Garrus decided that he’d at the very least make use of his bathroom before leaving. He could clean up, dress and be on his way within a handful of minutes. He figured he was owed at least that, and possibly some medigel, considering a few of the scrapes from sparring still bled.

Heading for the bedroom once again, the Detective’s curiosity got the better of him. Now he could use this as an opportunity to look at it from an investigative point of view. He hadn’t thought much of the space while he’d been focused on Saren exerting control over him. Now he took in the dimly lit room with sharper eyes.

His gaze caught on the datapads by the chair, and what he'd thought might’ve been weapon manuals or ship schematics was something else entirely. They were scientific research papers. Garrus picked up the top pad and scrolled through the abstract, which was translated into Palavani. The author was a Doctor Liara T’Soni, and the summary was postulating why the Protheans went extinct. The one underneath that hadn’t been translated yet, but he could read enough of the human language to make out the author was Doctor Shu Qian.  The title eluded him so he took a quick holo with his omnitool.

Replacing the pads as he found them, Garrus headed for the ensuite.

The tiled room was cooler than the rest of the apartment and smelled of the scrub Saren used on his plates. When the Spectre had been present, metal, eezo and gun oil had filled Garrus’ nose, but now that he was gone the underlying scent of the turian was able to show through. It was an earthy smell, combined with old leather and hints of spice.

Though tempted, the Detective didn’t check the brand. He left the scrub in the shower where it belonged and instead rifled through the cabinet behind the sink to see if there was a first aid kit of some kind. He was in luck. Saren was well stocked and he found everything he needed.

It didn’t take Garrus long to seal up the few scrapes and clean himself off. Once he was finished, he headed for the main room again to dress. He slipped his pants and boots on before refitting his visor and looking around. He’d check the device’s audio recordings later on. As Garrus clasped his shirt into place, he headed for the kitchen to look for anything that might help his case.

There was even less to investigate here, and the cupboards in the kitchen were sparse. The cooling unit had a few Cabal-grade energy drinks and a condiment or two sitting on the shelves. Garrus shut the cooling unit door and rounded the island to head back into the living room. As on first impression, Saren’s living space was bare of personal effects other than a few expensive looking statues and old bound Palavani books from before electronic times.

That left only one place. The lone room at the end of the hall.

Steeling himself, Garrus walked down the hallway and pressed on the door panel to open the sliding, electronic door. Instead of opening for him, the panel turned red and blinked a few times in protest. At this moment, the Detective had two choices: leave or break in.

He chose the latter. Within seconds Garrus had his omnitool out and working through one of his hacking programs. It was something he’d been naturally good at and pursued in his spare time, often arguing with his sister over text to see who could build the better hacking program. It took a while, probably longer than the sniper should have stayed, but he managed to get through the door and into Saren’s office without tripping any alarms or traps. Garrus supposed it wasn’t excessive that there had been three firewalls and two encryption codes to bypass considering it was a Spectre’s personal terminal. Yet it was frustrating and tedious.

The room was small, little more than a closet. A single desk sat against the far wall, a terminal in standby mode waiting for Saren’s return. Along the left wall, there was an armour case along with the materials needed to take care of a suit, and the right wall was similarly set up with weaponry and care materials. From what Garrus’ experience could tell him, the gear in this room looked like a backup kit. It wasn’t well-worn or used. It was also locked with what looked like a DNA scanner, and the Detective wasn’t willing to tempt fate on hacking through that level of sophistication.

Instead, Garrus took a seat at the terminal and worked his way into the more easily accessible files. Most of what he found was useless: drabbles about missions that made no sense to him and some fairly standard supply manifests.

The only true item of interest that Garrus found was the contact information for a handful of high-profile personnel throughout the Milky Way. Two names stood out for him: Matriarch Benezia T’Soni, a relation of the Doctor from the research paper, perhaps, and Fist, a crime lord on the Citadel. Both of whom were apparently working for Saren. Garrus tucked both pieces of information away for later and continued searching.

Another glance at his omnitool told him that he’d have to cut the rest of the investigation short, otherwise, he wouldn’t make it to the Presidium tower in time to meet with Executor Pallin before the hearing. He just needed a little more time to connect all of the dots. Arterius was responsible for Kryik’s death, that much was certain. Perhaps his reasons were valid and Garrus felt that for all Saren had done for the galaxy, he deserved a chance to be defended if that was the case.

It all rode on his ability to convince Pallin to give him more time. Garrus just hoped he could do it without the entire thing falling apart before his eyes.

+-+-+

After arriving home and showering, the Detective had listened to the audio recordings from the evening. His visor had many a useful function, and Saren had been none the wiser. Garrus’ neck flushed blue in a blush as he’d listened to the sound of his own moans. He was glad he’d waited until he was in his own space before listening to it. The Spectre had done quite the number on him over the course of an hour.

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately if he really thought about it, the audio had revealed no admission of guilt or anything else valuable. Not that it would have been admissible in court because of how he’d obtained it, but it might’ve been enough to get him a little more time. Still, he took the time to clean up a few select pieces of audio.

Other than that, all Garrus had to go on was the contacts he’d uncovered. He prayed to the Spirits that it would be enough.

Garrus managed the barest amount of sleep possible before having a little too much kava and heading for Presidium Tower. He had dressed in his standardized C-Sec armour and was thankful that the collar came up high enough to cover the bruising Saren had left on his neck just hours ago. It felt like a lifetime had passed since last night, but in reality, it had been no time at all.

The elevator ride upwards to the Council chambers was painfully slow, as always. He’d only had the opportunity to ascend to the top a few times before and each time seemed to be for graver reasons than the previous. This was not Garrus’ first high-profile case, and it likely wouldn’t be his last… unless Pallin demoted him, which was a definite possibility.

Garrus was a damn good Detective. Even though his name had helped him obtain his position in C-Sec, he’d climbed through the ranks on his own merit. If anything, his father had made it more difficult for him to prove his worth within the Precinct. Before transferring to the Citadel, he’d spent the first part of his service years with the Hierarchy Police and  _ Hastatim _ . They had taught him all he needed to know about the Galaxy that his father had missed over the years.

The world wasn’t as black and white as Castis made it out to be. No, it was grey.

He  _ hated  _ grey.

When the Detective stepped out of the elevator he made his way towards C-Sec’s office. The police force had a security station on this floor of the tower which included a bank of spare rooms for officers to use in preparation for Council audience. When he arrived, Pallin was already waiting for him.

That could only be a bad sign.

“Vakarian!” the Executor snapped the second he walked into the room, curt as always. His mandibles pulled in tightly against his jaw, showing his distaste. “If you don’t have the courtesy to be on time, then don’t come at all.”

Garrus held his retort, though only just. He stepped fully into the room and let the door close behind himself. Pallin was perched against a desk along the back wall with his arms crossed over his keel and his head tilted forwards to cover his throat. For whatever reason, his boss was on guard.

“Sir, I have a lead-” he began only to be cut off.

“I don’t need a lead, Detective. What I need is conclusive evidence.” Pallin pushed himself off the desk and stood up to his full height. “If you don’t have it, we’re done here.”

Before Garrus could even consider what he was doing, he blocked his boss from leaving with an outstretched arm. “Saren killed Nihlus. You know as well as I do that he’s guilty. I have more information. Give me time, I can prove it!”

“It doesn’t matter now, and even if I could get you more time the Council doesn’t want to do anything about it. The Spectres are their right hand, Saren their star. If you don’t have anything solid then it doesn’t matter. This has been a waste of time.”

Pallin pushed past him and headed for the Great Hall, Garrus at his heels. The Detective’s mind was going a mile a minute. There had to be something he could do to get what he needed…

“Executor, wait!”

Saren was a killer, not a murderer. Those things weren’t mutually exclusive. There was more going on in this than Pallin or the Council or anyone else knew. He was the only one who could slot the pieces together. He needed the Councillors’ help to help Saren and to stop whatever ominous thing was coming for them. He just needed everyone to listen.

To Garrus’ surprise, Pallin did stop and he turned to face him with an expectant and perturbed expression sitting on his face-plates. When Garrus didn’t immediately begin speaking his subvocals rolled in an annoyed hum, “Well?”

“I went to Saren’s apartment last night. Spoke with him off record. There’s mor-” the rage that overcame the Executor was palpable. So much so, that Garrus cut off on his own.

“I expected better from you, Vakarian,” he spat with disdain.

Panic set in. “Saren’s hiding something! Give me more time. Stall them.”

“Stall the Council? Don’t be ridiculous!” Pallin snapped back. “Your investigation is over, Garrus.”

Without further comment, the Executor left him standing alone, his maw agape as he watched Pallin's back move farther and farther away. His best efforts had been for naught. Pallin didn’t believe him and he’d probably just gotten himself suspended. The Council meeting with Saren was about to take place and there was nothing he could do. Garrus wanted… no… he needed more time to prove there was more going on here than they knew, that Saren was justified in his actions. The Spectre wasn’t a villain. He was trying to save the galaxy, but no one else could see the bigger picture other than him. Garrus’ gaze rose to the sound of footsteps coming to a halt. An idea formed in his mind quicker than he thought possible.

It was his only chance.

“Commander Shepard? Garrus Vakarian. I was the officer in charge of the C-Sec investigation into Saren.”

The human regarded him with a stern gaze, seemingly sizing him up. The pair of humans flanking the Commander didn’t seem impressed that they’d been stalled. Not that the Detective particularly cared. The only one that concerned him was Shepard.

“Sounds like you really want to bring him down.”

Garrus nodded. Most turians didn’t lie. He hoped that the Commander was one for stereotypes and would simply believe him at his word. Regardless, he did his best to be convincing: “I don’t trust him. Something about him rubs me the wrong way. But he’s a Spectre; everything he touches is classified. I can’t find any hard evidence.”

Shepard hummed in understanding, but they didn’t get any more time to talk. One of the others, the male, spoke up. “The Council is ready for us, Shepard.” 

“Good luck, Commander,” Garrus called out as the trio turned to leave. He wasn’t able to keep the hint of bitterness in his voice as he finished: “Maybe they’ll listen to you.”

The Detective watched the humans’ backs disappear into the Council Chamber before he headed for the elevators too. If he was lucky, Shepard’s meeting would take an hour or more. That gave him a little more time to follow up on his lead. He’d head back to his office, see if any of his contacts had sent new information along in the time he’d been gone.

If Pallin was going to suspend him, then he didn’t have long. He needed to find conclusive evidence that there was something bigger going on, that there was a good enough reason for Saren to kill his fellow Spectre in cold blood. Garrus knew that he could be the set of talons that Saren said he needed.

It was only a matter of time.

+-+-+

A tactical retreat is what Saren would outwardly call his escape from the Citadel. 

Internally, he knew that he was simply running away from the repercussions of his actions. Every word the C-Sec Detective had spoken was the truth. He had killed Nihlus in cold blood, he was working with the Geth and, under the direction of the Reapers, he was losing his mind and soul to his metal masters and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

The last Arterius was a traitor.

And it was that thought the biotic clung to. For if he still believed himself to be a traitor, then he was at least in some part still himself. He was still the same turian who dropped an orbital bombardment on his brother for the good of the galaxy and he was still the same turian who would do anything to protect his people.

It wasn’t to say that the thought didn’t wound him. It ached like nothing else in the galaxy could, even more than losing his arm or his eyes. Yet his resolve was what kept him stable for the journey back to  _ Sovereign _ . His own ship, the  _ Tachýs _ , was now docked in the belly of the Reaper. While his ship was fast,  _ Sovereign  _ was faster still and in the hours after leaving his apartment he needed to get as far away as possible.

By the time the Council meeting time arrived, the Spectre was halfway to his third relay jump. No matter the distance, the evening was fresh in his mind and it refused to leave him.

Saren remained on the bridge of his own ship for the time being, even though  _ Sovereign  _ preferred it when he spent his downtime on the main command deck. It was better on the  _ Tachýs _ . His mind was more his own and for this meeting, he needed his own thoughts. 

Regardless, the QEC was on the  _ Tachýs _ not on  _ Sovereign  _ so the Reaper had aquieccessed. 

It had been a surprise to him that Garrus had been as helpful as he was. The spar was needed more than he could have imagined and the sex had helped settle his mind. It had made him feel more turian, just as he’d described to the young, idealistic cop.  _ Sovereign’s  _ hold over him made him feel less himself with each passing day.

For the sake of his people, Saren knew he needed to keep himself whole.

Nihlus’ death was more than proof that he wasn’t in full control anymore. The Spectre still felt sick, watching his own hand rise in his dreams to kill his protégé. He woke screaming, remembering what he’d done for the sake of the galaxy.  _ Sovereign  _ whispered treachery into his head and lies about Kryik.

He was pulled from the reverie by a ping from his omnitool. The Council was ready for him. Saren stepped up to the podium of his personal QEC, an expression of boredom plastered on his mandibles. This whole affair was a waste of his time and he intended to say just that. 

The Councillors began the session with the humans in typical fashion, ignoring his presence for the first few minutes once everyone had been introduced. It wasn’t until the Salarian Councillor chimed in with some of the lacklustre evidence that he felt it necessary to intrude.

“I resent these accusations,” he began before looking towards his three superiors to plead his case. His every word was true, despite the accusations being correct. “Nihlus was a fellow Spectre. And a friend.”

Below him, Captain Anderson -the first human Spectre candidate- argued with him. “That just let you catch him off guard!”

He stifled a growl, using his hatred for the man to aid his own case. “Captain Anderson. You always seem to be involved when humanity makes false charges against me. And this must be your protégé, Commander Shepard. The one who let the beacon get destroyed.”

“The mission to Eden Prime was top secret,” the Commander sneered as though they’d just hit the bullseye on a target. “The only way you could have known about the beacon is if you were there!”

Saren just scoffed, shaking his head a little in disappointment. Shepard was just as bad as Anderson, righteous without merit. “With Nihlus gone, his files passed on to me. I read the Eden Prime report. I was unimpressed.” He crossed his arms over his keel and sat back into his hip. "But what can you expect from a human?”

“Saren despises humanity. That’s why he attacked Eden Prime!”

“Your species-” the Spectre left the emphasis on the word- “needs to learn its place, Shepard. You’re not ready to join the Council. You’re not even ready to join the Spectres!”

The human Ambassador cut into the conversation, complaining about him further, and it only served to weaken their position. Humans were too emotional, and they were easy to manipulate. It was a good thing that the Asari Councillor was here to manage him. Looking at his own species’ representative he saw nothing but his thinly veiled annoyance. 

“This meeting has no purpose. The humans are wasting your time, Councillor. And mine.”

“Saren is hiding behind his position as a Spectre. You need to open your eyes!” Shepard demanded. Humans could be so persistent.

“What we need is evidence,” the Salarian Councillor chimed in. “So far, we have seen nothing.”

There was a moment’s pause before Anderson stepped forward again. It seemed like he was about to go against his better judgement, yet he spoke regardless. He was a fool. “There is still one outstanding issue: Commander Shepard’s vision. It may have been triggered by the beacon.”

“Are we allowing dreams into evidence now?” Saren managed to bite out. He could vividly recall the visions. He’d seen them himself. This was exactly why he needed to act. Yet, it was the perfect opportunity to downplay the human’s credibility. “How can I defend my innocence against this kind of testimony?”

The Turian Councillor had his six. “I agree. Our judgment must be based on facts and evidence, not wild imaginings and reckless speculation.”

The Salarian Councillor seemed to have had enough, and he called the meeting to a close. “Do you have anything else to add, Commander Shepard?”

“You’ve made your decision. I won’t waste my breath.” Shepard muttered. The humans were defeated and they knew it.

The Asari Councillor looked between her compatriots before addressing the humans. “The Council has found no evidence of any connection between Saren and the geth. Ambassador, your petition to have him disbarred from the Spectres is denied.”

“I’m glad to see justice was served,” Saren said his parting piece and shut off his communication unit before anyone could request more of him. He’d had more than enough for one day, yet his work had only just begun.

+-+-+

Garrus’ intuition turned out to be correct, yet again. It was a curse as much as it was a blessing.  He may not have been able to get hard evidence but he did have a lead. Doctor Michel. She was a human physician in the Wards, running a small clinic and apparently she’d treated a quarian with some valuable information.

He needed to get there.

When Garrus left the confines of his office, he had to skirt around a pissed-off krogan. The Detective recognized him as a registered bounty hunter, Urdnot Wrex. The massive alien was going on about his contract and how much of an inconvenience Citadel Security was being. 

Typically, Garrus would have ignored it… or he would have until Wrex mentioned the name Fist, and that made him pause for just a moment. That was one of the two names in Saren’s files. It was another potential lead. One that he needed to follow up on.

Bringing up his omnitool, the Detective was able to gain access to Wrex’s file without much difficulty. Pallin had yet to remove the increased security clearance he’d been given for the Saren investigation. It proved useful. Wrex was on a mission for the Shadow Broker, and he had been hired to kill Fist. 

Fist was working for Saren. He’d betrayed the Broker.

The web was getting more convoluted as time went on. Where did Fist fit into all of this? What had Saren hired him to do? Why was it worth killing the human? 

Garrus needed answers to all of these questions and more. Without further delay, he left C-Sec Academy and headed for the Wards. He needed to get Michel’s information if he had any hope of putting the pieces together to solve this case.

He took a cruiser to cut down on time and used the spare few minutes of quiet to check into the asari doctor, T’Soni. There wasn’t much information available on her other than her published works and a general outline of her, not insignificant, career. The asari was a Prothean researcher who was described as naive, yet talkative and polite, in more than one report. Somehow he doubted the maiden, barely over a century old, would know anything about what Saren was up to, but he filed the information away for later use.

By the time Garrus arrived outside the clinic, it was almost too late. Through the blinds he could see what was going on: three humans were inside with Doctor Michel. She was in danger. The Detective ducked into cover and crept towards the door. Around the corner he could hear the woman’s screams:

“I didn’t tell anyone, I swear!”

One of the thugs, the one Garrus assumed was the leader, spoke up. “That was smart Doc. Now if Garrus comes around, you stay smart. Keep your mouth shut.”

Internally, the Detective swore. They knew she was leaking information to him. He hadn’t been careful enough getting the Doctor to cover her tracks. His mind was going a kilometre a minute, trying to figure out what to do next when the choice was made for him.

“Who’re you?” the leader shouted, grabbing Michel and using her as a shield against none other than Commander Shepard. Somehow, the human was here. The trio had perfect timing.

“Let her go!” Shepard demanded, further distracting the goons.

At that moment, Garrus didn’t have time to think. The doctor was in danger, and without her his entire case could fall apart. He needed that information to help Saren. He needed to solve this case in order to stop him.

A single shot rang out to start the firefight. Michel screamed and got to the ground, just like he’d taught her to in case of a shootout. She didn’t work in the nicest ward and this wasn’t her first round. Between the Detective and the Alliance soldiers, the thugs were dealt with in short order.

“Perfect timing, Shepard,” Garrus complimented with a wave of his hand. He holstered his pistol and took a step closer to them. “Gave me a clear shot at that bastard.”

The reaction he received was not the one he’d expected. Shepard yelled at him. “What were you thinking? You could have hit the hostage!”

“There wasn’t time to think,” Garrus stammered in response, taken aback. “I just reacted. I didn’t mean t- Dr. Michel are you hurt?” He closed the distance between himself and the physician and helped her to her feet.

“No, I’m okay,” she replied with a slight smile as she wiped a bit of blood off of her cheek with the back of one hand. “Thanks to you. All of you.”

“I know those men threatened you,” Shepard began while holstering the pistol. “But if you tell us who they work for, we can protect you.”

Without hesitation, Michel answered: “They work for Fist. They wanted to shut me up, keep me from telling Garrus about the quarian.”

It took all the self-control the Detective had not to barge in and start asking questions immediately. Shepard was running this show, and as such he had to wait. Garrus had to follow the human’s lead. Instead, he faded into the background of the clinic, taking a step away from the carnage to take a breath and observe.

Nodding in understanding, the Commander considered Michel for a moment before deciding on a line of questioning. “What quarian?”

Even though the doctor was nervous, wringing her hands together in front of her as she began to speak, she was confident in her words. “A few days ago, a quarian came by my office. She’d been shot, but she wouldn’t tell me who did it. I could tell she was scared, probably on the run. She asked me about the Shadow Broker. She wanted to trade information in exchange for a safe place to hide.”

“Where is she now?” Shepard prompted.

Again Michel nodded. “I put her in contact with Fist. He’s an agent for the Shadow Broker.”

His time snooping through Saren’s apartment proved to be useful after all. “Not anymore,” Garrus explained, his tone growing more confident after the slip up with Michel. “He works for Saren and the Shadow Broker isn’t too happy about it.”

“Fist betrayed the Shadow Broker?” the petite doctor laughed. “That’s stupid even for him. Saren must have made him quite the offer.”

Despite Michel having meant nothing by her comment, Garrus’ mandibles still shifted in towards his jaw and he looked away hoping that he came off as thoughtful and not guilty. He too had received quite the offer from Saren, and he’d taken it. “That quarian must have something Saren wants. Something worth crossing the Shadow Broker to get.”

“She must have something that proves he’s a traitor. Did the quarian mention anything about Saren or the geth?” Shepard questioned, trying to find out more.

“She did,” the doctor replied. “The information she was going to trade, she said it had something to do with the geth.”

That was it! The thread that might tie everything together, Garrus couldn’t help but announce it. “She must be able to link Saren to the geth. There’s no way the Council can ignore this!”

“Time we paid Fist a visit,” the Commander acknowledged. The Alliance soldiers in the squad agreed with brief, yet defined nods as they moved to follow their leader outside.

Maybe it was stupid, but some part of him still thought that he could help so he followed the trio out after ensuring that Michel was okay. He caught the Commander’s attention before they could depart. Before he started speaking he went over the words in his mind. He needed to be convincing without his true intentions showing through. It wasn’t going to be easy.

“This is your show, Shepard,” Garrus began, purposefully putting humility into his voice. “But I want to bring Saren down as much as you do. I’m coming with you.”

“You’re a turian,” Shepard half-scoffed. “Why do you want to bring him down?”

Garrus remained as honest as possible. “I couldn’t find the proof I needed in my investigation, but I knew what was really going on. Saren is a traitor to the Council and a disgrace to my people.”

It didn’t take any more than that. 

“Welcome aboard, Garrus.” A single hand was held out for the Detective, and he took it. Wherever this path was leading, he was going to need help, and perhaps if he played his cards right, this would be the way to get it.

“You know, we aren’t the only ones going after Fist,” Garrus suggested as they began heading for the rapid transit terminal. “The Shadow Broker hired a krogan bounty hunter, named Wrex, to take him out.”

The human female spoke up for the first time, “Yeah we saw him in the bar.”

“A krogan might come in handy,” Shepard mused.

“Last I heard?” the Detective began, “He was at the C-Sec Academy.”

“What's he doing there?” the male soldier asked, and not for the first time did Garrus decide he hated how human armour didn’t carry ranks. It was difficult to tell them apart as it was and he’d yet to be introduced to the underlings.

“Fist accused him of making threats, so we brought Wrex in for a little talk. If we hurry we can catch him at the Academy before he’s released.”

“Move out.” 

+-+-+

The Normandy was more impressive a ship than Garrus had expected it to be. The C-Sec Detective was in awe as he walked up the gangplank and aboard the ship. The profile of the  _ Normandy  _ alone was breathtaking, all sleek turians lines combined with human ingenuity. It was a true marvel.

Once he’d come aboard, he met the ship’s pilot. Flight Lieutenant Moreau had quite the mouth on him, but if he could fly the ship half as well as he said he could, then they were in good hands. The Navigator, and XO, Pressly was polite enough, but it was easy to see that he, along with a fair number of other members of the crew, disliked him immediately. Garrus knew it was speciesism, he didn’t exactly blame them. Yet he could feel their stares and he didn’t like it.

He’d come aboard in the hours after meeting with the Council. One of the Alliance Soldiers, Kaidan he’d learned, had given him and the rest of the new shipmates a tour. He wasn’t alone. Tali and Wrex were joining the crew as well. With the three of them, the team became more well rounded. Wrex brought brute force, Tali with her technical prowess, and Garrus bearing his sniper rifle.

When Shepard had agreed to bring him on board, he’d asked about the Detective’s skillset. The Commander had wanted to get an understanding of where he could be useful off missions, as well as on them. Garrus had proven his usefulness in the firefight against Fist. Together, along with Wrex, the trio had brought down the enemy without difficulty. Now, he had to prove his worth in space and there was only one way he could make it happen, and that was as the mechanic.

Gunnery Officer was already taken. Much to his chagrin.

It had felt damn good to get back in the field. And, admittedly, even now as he squatted on the floor of the cargo bay, his hands covered in axle grease he was having more fun than he had in ages. Getting back to basics calmed his mind. The last few days had been a whirlwind between the investigation, the result, and now joining the crew.

The Normandy was headed for the relay by the time he saw Commander Shepard again, and this time the human had sought him out.

“Garrus, how’re you settling in?”

He stood from his place at the Mako’s tire, wiping the grease from his palms with a rag. “Just fine. Thanks for bringing me on board, Commander. I knew working with a Spectre would be better than life at C-Sec.” Garrus patted the side of the tank with a slight mandible flare.

“Have you worked with a Spectre before?” Shepard asked, head tilting in question.

“Well, no,” Garrus admitted. He wasn’t about the say that he’d slept with one, but it was true he hadn’t explicitly worked with one before. Not like he was with Shepard now.

He felt a need to bury the abruptness of his answer with an explanation before the sniper could think better of it, he started blabbering on: “But I know what they’re like. Spectres make their own rules. You’re free to handle things your way. At C-Sec, you’re buried by rules. The damn bureaucrats are always on your back.”

“For the most part,” the Commander cut him off, a small smile tugging the corner of his mouth, “the rules are there for a reason.”

“Maybe,” Garrus shrugged, sticking with his gut reaction. “But sometimes it feels like the rules are only there to stop me from doing my work. If I’m trying to take down a suspect, it shouldn’t matter how I do it, as long as I do it. But C-Sec wants it done their way. Protocol and procedure come first. That’s why I left.”

“So you just quit because you didn’t like the way they do things?”

Shepard probably hadn’t meant for the comment to get his back up, but it did. “There’s more to it than that. It didn’t start out bad, but as I rose in rank, I got saddled with more and more red tape. C-Sec’s handling of Saren was typical. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I hate leaving…”

“I hope you made the right choice. I’d hate for you to regret it later.”

“Well, that’s sort of why I teamed up with you,” Garrus admitted a little meek. “It’s a chance for me to get off the Citadel, see how things are done outside C-Sec. Either way, I plan to make the most of this. And without C-Sec Headquarters looking over my shoulder, well, maybe I can get the job done my way for a change.”

“If getting the job done means endangering innocent people, then, no. We get the job done right, not fast. Got it?”

“I wasn’t trying to-” he cut off. “I understand, Commander.”

Shepard clasped his shoulder. “You’ll figure it out.”

“Thanks…”

Without further comment, the human dropped his shoulder and headed for the elevator. Garrus watched him go, only turning back to his task once Shepard entered the lift.

“Oh, and Garrus?” Shepard called out before the doors closed. “Don’t forget to check in with Chakwas, I want to ensure everyone is ship-shape for this mission, alright?”

The turian froze at the mention of the doctor. He’d thought he’d managed to subvert the check-up. Apparently not.

“Yes, sir.”

\- - -


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank [**BethAdastra (AO3)**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BethAdastra) for this chapter, folks. Without her beautiful artwork it would have stayed in my unfinished works folders for another few weeks. Instead, enjoy chapter three!
> 
> Art embedded, NSFW. [**BethAdastra on Tumblr.**](http://bethadastra.tumblr.com/post/175765548562/would-you-be-interested-in-a-little-more-arterian)
> 
> As always, thank you [**White_Aster**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster) and [**Some_Writer**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer) for without you my writing is riddled with typos and plot holes!
> 
> Theme Music: [**Simon Curtis - Flesh**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mEfKooMunLI)  
>   
>  NSFW this chapter, stop at -Your safeword is Nanus.- restart at -“It’s still quiet,”-.

**Chapter 3**

\- - -

\- - -

Doctor Karin Chakwas had been a busy little bee in her medical bay today.

With all the new crew coming aboard she’d needed to set up medical files for each of them, send requisitions out to her associates for health records and finally examine each of the new squadmates. Thus far, she’d accomplished two out of the three tasks. It was a surprise to her that Garrus was the patient missing from her examinations.

Wrex had shown up without argument. It hadn’t been her first time up close and personal with a krogan, but the job never became any easier. Although Wrex had been very honest with her in regards to the medical questions she asked, he wasn’t exactly up to date on medical care. The swaths of scars under his armour told a harrowing story. Admittedly, he hadn’t been too impressed when she updated his vaccinations.

Their quarian, Tali, came along just as easily. Her health was quite good considering the recent gunshot wound, and Karin supposed she had the Citadel Doctor, Michel, to thank for that. While the Flotilla hadn’t been reachable for her to request medical records, Tali had given her a complete copy of them.

C-Sec had been forthcoming with information on Garrus once the Commander's Spectre credentials had been applied. Though, the sniper himself needed to be coaxed up from the underdeck for his appointment. That peaked her professional, and personal, curiosity.

At the sound of the door sliding open behind her, Karin spun around in her chair.

“Officer Vakarian,” she greeted cordially. “A pleasure to meet you.”

He nodded stiffly. “Doctor.”

Karin gestured for him to come in and sit down on one of the examination beds. He did, but again he didn’t move like someone who wanted to be there. His records had not indicated any grievous injuries in his past that would cause an aversion to hospitals, but perhaps there was more to it. A relative passing away or some childhood phobia.

No matter what it was, she’d get to the bottom of it. The doctor had dealt with far more difficult patients before. Honestly, even with her vast experience, the Commander had been a tough nut to crack.

“Your files from C-Sec transferred over without issue, is there anything you’d like to mention before I go through them?” It was a white-lie, she’d already read the file, but Karin was curious what, if anything, he’d share with her. She followed him over to the exam bed and began a passive scan.

“No, ma’am.”

The Doctor’s mouth pinched in disapproval, but she said nothing as the scanner continued working. She was surprised that he hadn’t taken the opportunity to do… well, anything. He didn’t try to dispute being here, he didn’t attempt to subvert her or downplay something vague in his file. It was disconcerting more than if he’d freely said his mother had a debilitating brain disease, as the file suggested, or if he’d outright lied to her.

Another tactic then. “Armour off, Vakarian.”

“Excuse me?” he jolted back from her and it took a fair amount of effort to hide a grin of triumph.

“I’ll need your armour off for the physical,” she told him as she returned to her desk to fetch a stethoscope and a hypospray. “Undersuit too, from the waist up.”

When she turned back around, he hadn’t moved.

“Why?”

“Standard Alliance procedure, I’ll need to administer an allergy test since you’re on a human vessel and levo cross-contamination is a high risk for you. Tali had one as well.”

“Check my file,” he told her coolly. “I’m not allergic. C-Sec checks for that, Hierarchy too.”

She stared him down. Now this, was interesting. “What aren’t you telling me, Garrus?” she asked him as she put the tools down and leaned against the desk, her palms clasped in front of her thighs. The position was non-threatening, yet her demeanour showed that she wasn’t to be trifled with.

Garrus tried a handful of times to explain himself before deciding that he’d failed. Each time he got barely more than a few words out before cutting himself off. Instead, he quickly removed his armour and placed it on the bed. “Can you close the privacy screen? Please.”

Without delay, Karin complied with his request. She felt a little silly now for not having it closed, to begin with, and chose this opportunity to explain herself a little more. “Human doctors are held to similar privacy standards as turian ones, Garrus. As long as the issue isn’t directly related to mission success then it is between you and me.”

“Right.”

The Detective sounded skeptical, yet continued removing his armour.

When he was bare from the waist up, he sat back down on the examination bed and waited. It wasn’t the blue blush on his neck that caught her attention, it was the purpling bruises underneath of it. Marks that dark either hadn’t been treated with medigel or had and this was the healed up version.

Karin took her time choosing words. Leaving the room silent, save the drive core, until she’d come up with a plan. Her eyes took in additional fresh injuries on him to piece the puzzle together further. Bruised hips and mostly healed scratches added to the complexity.

In the end, she came up with: “Was it consensual?”

“Excuse me?” he repeated from earlier, his mandibles hanging loosely from his jaw in shock at her audacity.

The Doctor cleared her throat. "Mr. Vakarian, do I strike you as a woman who is unfamiliar with every possible type of embarrassing injury young, healthy soldiers can inflict on themselves or each other?"

“No- but-”

“No buts, Officer. You do not want to know the list of things I have had to remove from nearly-impossible places. Now, answer my question. Please," she added belatedly.

“It was.” Garrus refused to make eye contact. That was never a good sign.

“If I find out you’re willfully lying to me, Vakarian.”

The threat hit without her needing to add an exact punishment. “Understood, Doctor.”

Crossing the small space between them, Karin resumed the examination and treated the day-old injuries. Upon closer inspection it was easy to determine that he had indeed been treated once, there was a definite pattern to how medigel healed versus traditional healing and the bruising showed every sign of its use.

Karin’s mind was spinning looking at the marks. Her curiosity wasn’t purely professional, not that she’d ever let that be known, but she couldn’t place where the injuries were from. She was embarrassed to admit that her first through had been a krogan lover, even another turian would have needed a fair bit of strength to inflict wounds like this. Yet there were few signs that Garrus struggled, this had been intentional. And were those… bite marks?

It didn’t take too much longer, and Karin sent Garrus on his way with a light painkiller in case he needed one to help him sleep. They’d discussed her, ‘no questions asked,’ policy before she let him leave. The turian had agreed to come to her if it was needed, that in of itself was a victory.

With her mind still reeling from the encounter, she sat back down at her desk to go over her new scans. Though her curiosity rattled her proverbial cage, there was no one that she could discuss this with.

Medical confidentiality was a bitch.

+-+-+

Garrus was laying on his back underneath the Mako trying to pry off a piece of damaged plating from the squad’s trip to Therum while listening to the heavy rhythmic beats of his favourite playlist through his visor. It had been a hard mission, but he was starting to get into sync with Shepard’s team.

For the first time in a long time, he was feeling like part of a team. The sniper hadn’t felt that way since leaving basic. _Hastatim_ wasn’t exactly filled with shining examples of comradery, and neither was C-Sec. It was… good, he decided, to start learning to mesh with people even if they weren’t from the same backgrounds.

More than once he’d put his foot in his mouth about some small cultural issue. Well… small was probably putting it lightly, but he was trying. That’s what mattered.

The Commander had a tendency to take him ground side with Tali whenever they ran into geth resistance. While Shepard was a strong soldier and biotic, he lacked tech skills. Overloading mechs was a specialty of his and Tali had a knack for overriding the geth in particular. Thus far he’d been ground side once with Wrex and once with Kaidan, never Ashley. Williams only went down the Alenko and thus far Garrus didn’t quite know why. It was probably something speciesist, though Garrus didn’t care enough to figure out what.

Otherwise, his life on the _Normandy_ was running smoothly. Chakwas hadn’t pressed him further about the bruises, no one else had seen them before they healed over and he had yet to hear from or see Saren. It was easy enough to put that singular night behind him despite a yearning for more that sat in the back of his mind.

What mattered now was taking him down.

Or at least it was until a priority ping sounded off from his omnitool. Garrus shot upwards so fast that he smashed his crest into the underbelly of the tank, making a loud metallic twang that echoed throughout the cargo bay.

By the time his aural canals stopped ringing, Wrex’s laughter had died down to a chuckle. “Trying to kill off those last few brain cells, whelp?”

The sniper growled in dismissal, ignoring him while sliding out into the bay and rubbing his oil covered hand against his crest. That had hurt, a lot. There were very few messages that caused his tool to go off like that, and he barely stifled his reaction to the text as he read it over. _‘So much for silence…’_

It was Saren.

_//_

_[From: Unknown Sender - Location: Unknown / Unknown / Unknown]_

_[To: TrueShot - Location: Artemis Tau / Knossos / Normandy SR-1]_

_[Subject: No Subject]_

_Vakarian._

_Tomorrow 2300 local. Don’t be late._

_[End Message Text] - [Address Attached]_

_//_

The attached address was for a hotel on Noveria.

Somehow, Saren knew that they were going to be there the next day. He was one step ahead of them, maybe more. Garrus’ immediate reaction to the news was to… he paused, he actually didn’t know what his gut reaction was. There wasn’t one.

His mind raced. One one hand, he should tell Shepard about the message. The Commander was tasked with bringing Saren down, he was supposed to be helping that cause. On the other… the Detective vividly remembered their night together. Saren wasn’t the villain that he was being made out to be. Perhaps, given another chance, he could change the biotic’s mind. Have him turn himself in.

Either way, he was pulled from his reverie by the sound of heavy footsteps.

“Well, did you?” Wrex chuckled, though he had actually left his post to check on him.

Garrus shook it off and closed out his tool as he stood. “I’m fine.”

“What's in the message?”

“Nothing,” he bit out too quickly, pushing past Wrex as he headed for the elevator.

Though the Battlemaster said nothing more, Garrus could feel eyes on his back. The krogan was suspicious and much too perceptive for his own good.

+-+-+

Getting away from the Normandy was easier than the Detective had expected it to be. Shepard had taken Liara and Wrex along with him to find Benezia and left the remainder of the crew in the port. They had explicit instructions not to start any fights, but they were free to explore as long as they were on time for departure in the morning.

Garrus had gotten the lay of the land earlier in the day when the Commander had dragged him and Kadian across the port trying to sort out a garage pass to get access to peak 15 and the labs. Along the way, they’d done a lot more than Garrus believed to be strictly necessary, yet it had given him the opportunity to suss out what kind of person Shepard was a little more. The Commander was a paragon at heart, yet he was willing to bend the rules when they suited him.

The Detective left the Normandy in armour. He wasn’t about to arouse anyone’s suspicions by not wearing what had become customary to them. Turians shipbound tended to remain in armour unless they were sparring or sleeping, even then they were never far away. It wasn’t the same as the human custom, yet it would have been odd to see him in civies

He headed for the hotel in the message, just a little before the scheduled time. He still had no idea where he was going once he arrived, yet somehow, Garrus knew there would be something else to lead him onwards once he arrived.

Garrus still wasn’t certain if this was a good idea or not. Last time, Saren had shoved him against a wall and nearly choked him out. This time, Saren might just finish the job. Kill him where he stood.

An undeniable pull was dragging him in. The memory of Saren’s hands, the warmth and chill. Everything about the Spectre intrigued and excited him. Garrus couldn’t fight it. His body demanded more. His mind did too. He wanted the feel of Saren’s plates on his own, he wanted the male’s voice in his head.

Beyond a doubt, Garrus knew he wanted this.

When he reached the hotel’s door, he wasn’t surprised an asari waved him over. She slipped a room key into his palm and walked away without a word. There was no mistaking it, Saren was going to be waiting for him behind that door.

His throat was dry as he waited for the elevator to take him upwards. His body already primed for the thoughts of what Saren would do it him if he didn’t kill him that is… although, it was possible that the danger was enhancing his feelings. That was undeniable too.

+-+-+

Saren sat alone in the dark.

The hotel room was luxurious, as would be expected of Noveria’s main business port. It was simply decorated in a modern style with a large turian-styled bed against one wall and a practical desk and chair against the other. It wasn’t large, but it was warm. Most of this planet was frozen solid, as such he could appreciate the attention given if not in space, in temperature at the least.

His eyes had long adjusted to the reduced brightness, and that fact alone would give him an advantage if his… if Garrus… decided to show up. He hadn’t left the Detective any recourse to decline other than to just not show up. It was also entirely possible that he would alert the humans to his location and bring a squad to take him down. Somehow, he doubted it would come to that.

Either way, it was worth the risk. Ever since he’d had his Spectre status removed, it had been harder to keep control of Sovereign. The Reaper was getting stronger over him with every passing day. Benezia had tried to help him, and she had failed. The asari would pay the price for her failure and Shepard was on his way there to dole it out.

Benezia was a distraction. A distraction that allowed him time with Vakarian to get a hold of himself for the good of the galaxy. Nothing more.

The door slid open three minutes after the agreed upon time. Garrus stepped inside and the door closed behind him. He was blissfully alone, though not unarmed. Astride his back was a Viper, on his hip was a slightly modified Elanus model pistol. Though his armour showed a little more wear than last time he’d seen him, he looked good.

“You’re late.”

“You’re not easy to find,” Garrus threw back at him with a slightly amused flutter of his mandibles. He was nervous, on edge. Perhaps he could help him set those feelings aside so that they could focus on his own needs instead.

Saren stood up from his chair, his own pistol was loose in his hand. His biotics were at the ready just in case. “You’re alone?”

“Against my better judgement,” Garrus said as his shoulders dropped a little in self-depreciation. The brightest object in the room was the sniper’s visor, it shone an eerie blue glow across the younger male’s plates accentuating the sharp angles of him. It made him hungry.

“Yet, you came regardless,” Saren began to close the distance between them and it wasn’t until he stopped inside of the Detective’s personal space that he clipped his own pistol back against his armoured hip.

With a slight biotic push, Garrus’ back was against the wall beside the door. The metal of his hardsuit clanking against the surface. Already, his breath quickened. It seemed as though his prey wanted this as badly as he needed it. Sex was always better with an enthusiastic partner.

“I’m going to ask you this one more time, Garrus.” Saren dropped his voice to a husky whisper as be brought his mouth to bare along the sniper’s jawline. “Are you afraid of me?”

He was met with a sharp intake of breath and a heavy swallow. Saren was close enough to feel Garrus’ throat working and appreciate the rumble of his dual-vocal chords as the answer was breathed into the hotel room.

“No.”

Saren’s hum of approval released some of the tension in the sniper’s spine. For a few moments longer, he spent time working over Garrus’ mandible and the little hide that was accessible above his collar. He had yet to touch him otherwise and the Detective was already primed for him. Saren could smell it in the air.

“Get out of your armour,” the Spectre ordered as he stepped back from his second-time partner, giving him space to comply. “Your safeword is Nanus. If you use it the night will end, no questions asked.”

“Understood.” Garrus’ hands began to work at the numerous familiar catches on his armour. Efficiently, the pieces fell from his body to reveal the form-fitting undersuit beneath it. This time, however, Garrus remembered his desire for tidiness. Each piece was placed carefully on the desk before he removed his boots and visor.

Saren stepped up behind him, the chill of his armour likely making its way through the undersuit as Garrus shivered against the contact. One gauntlet covered hand slowly, but surely, unclipped each of the undersuit’s clasps. For the moment, he was unhurried.

Garrus’ presence helped to settle his Spirit and Sovereign was busy exerting his control over Benezia at least for now. The Reaper had trouble controlling too many minds at once, and there was no telling how many others were at his mercy.

His mouth once again found the Detective’s hide. As more and more of it was revealed he took advantage, running his gauntlet covered palms across it and his tongue and teeth along the bare expanse of his partner’s shoulder.

“Saren-” Garrus’ breath caught in his lungs. “More.”

The biotic snarled and bit down on the nearest accessible bit of hide, his teeth digging until he tasted blood and felt the Detective flinch against him. Garrus didn’t pull away as he’d expected, instead, he moaned and his hips snapped back into the armoured pair pressed against him.

That small movement broke Saren’s last bit of control.

In an abrupt motion, Garrus was shoved face first against the desk. His armour shoved out of the way and onto the floor with a quick sweep of his arm. Biotics held the Detective in place and there was no preamble as he tore at the undersuit pants. He needed it, he needed to sink into the warm, willing body below him.

He needed to feel turian again.

Saren’s groin plate joined Garrus’ armour on the ground and his member was thick and hot with need as he tore a glove off with his teeth to slick his palm with saliva. There was no time to properly work his partner up, though, from the way Garrus was writhing against the biotic hold, he didn’t need much more preparation regardless.

It hadn’t been too long since they’d laid together.

He would be all right.

Saren’s first thrust inwards was rough and quick. It stole the air from both sets of lungs in the room and the only way Saren kept from crying out was to dig his teeth back into Garrus’ hide. It couldn’t have been comfortable for the younger male, but he didn’t complain. Instead, he swore and moaned for more.

The biotic was amazed and more than willing to give him just that. The harder he pressed himself into Garrus the easier it was to forget the nagging in the back of his brain. The easier it became to be in the moment.

Their first romp was quick and messy. By the end of it, Garrus’ hips were already starting to bruise and a line of cobalt was trailing down in a steady stream from his shoulder.

Saren let off long enough for the sniper to catch his breath. The view was excellent. Garrus was a quivering mess beneath him, all rough breaths and needy noises. Despite the rough treatment, he remained open to his partner, their word had yet to be spoken. Even as Saren stepped away, he kept his eyes on the younger male, his gaze caught on the slow slid of semen running down the inside of his thighs and he licked the blood from his fangs as he watched it slide to the floor.

There was something particularly erotic about that sight that riled him even more.

Well practiced hands rose to the clasps of his armour and piece-by-piece the metal and ceramic plating fell to the floor. Saren had no regard for tidiness this time, only speed. He hardly noticed his partner move until he felt hands on him, helping to remove the armour faster.

Garrus was actively engaged in continuing their evening. As more plate and hide was revealed to him, he took advantage of it. A shuddering breath was torn from his chest as Garrus’ hot tongue traced the line of his neck. For some inane reason, he trusted the sniper’s teeth near his throat. That had never happened before.

They didn’t speak. It wasn’t necessary.

Saren found his way behind Garrus again after a time. One hand on his shoulder and the other pressing against the side of his throat to feel the Detective’s pulse. It was racing. Saren heard a fluttering sigh leave his mouth as his teeth came down on the back of his neck. Garrus’ hands were loose at his sides, he was entirely at ease.

Somehow, Garrus trusted him still. It would have been so easy to kill him now, _Sovereign_ told him so inside of his head, but he didn't want that. He wanted to be worthy of that trust, he wanted to be the saviour and hero he used to be. With a snarl, the moment was over and the night continued on anew.

Talons found catches on his plates and scraped against sensitive hide. There was more blood, on both their parts. It wasn’t until they fell onto the bed, side-by-side, that Saren took charge again.

He pinned the sniper down, sitting astride his hips, and using his palm to immobilize Garrus’ head against the mattress. The biotic’s mouth came to bear on the length of Garrus’ throat again, the edges of his teeth grazing the thinner hide over his carotid artery and causing the Detective’s breath to slow almost to a halt.

“Sa- Saren…”

He froze in place. By the tone of the younger male’s voice, he was uncomfortable. Yet Nanus remained out of his vocabulary.

“Yes, Garrus?”

“I want… nhug… t-to touch you. Let me.”

The ex-Spectre pulled back slightly, enough to lock eyes with him. It was only when he backed off a quarter-metre that he realized there was a biotic field around them. His own, of course. His control was slipping. Saren hauled the aura back and Garrus’ hands found his hips immediately, he followed him off the mattress and began licking anywhere he could reach while hunched over to taste the hide of his waist.

Garrus’ enthusiasm was refreshing, and despite the momentary lapse in control, Saren was enjoying every moment of this. Perhaps… no, he couldn’t. But maybe…

The ex-Spectre rolled onto his back, pulling Garrus along with him until their positions were reversed. The sniper sat between his thighs, erection back to full strength already even after spending himself against the side of the desk only a handful of minutes ago. It brushed against his own, sending sparks across his vision once again.

One of the biotic’s hands found its way to Garrus’ crest and he applied enough pressure to send him licking along the line of his body. “Lick me open,” he urged him further down.

While Garrus did continue down, he was met with an erection and far spread plates. “Uh…”

Before the Detective could state the obvious, that he was open, Saren drew his knees up, with his feet on the mattress, to give Garrus room to maneuver. The quiet oh noise that Garrus made was quickly forgotten as he got to work.

Just as well as Garrus had worked his pelvic plates open last time, he worked diligently to ease his rear plating apart. Saren’s hands found purchase on the back of his fringe and shoulder. He only took enough care to ensure that he dug into the hide that could be covered by his armour’s collar. Otherwise, Saren was not gentle.

He’d never been a gentle lover, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Waves of pleasure rocked Saren and he opened himself up more to Garrus’ ministrations. Before long, the Detective’s tongue had worked itself inside to massage his rarely-touched internal channel. He couldn’t help but moan and the sound vibrated through his chest and filled the room.

Saren let himself edge before having Garrus back off. He was panting as he used a quick kick against Garrus’ knee to send the Detective sprawling onto his back. He mounted up again, this time angled such that he’d be able to impale himself onto the sniper’s length when he was ready.

“Y-you’re sure?” the Detective’s glacial gaze was fogged with lust. He wanted this. The needy writhe of his hips told Saren so, yet Garrus was still holding back. So the ex-Spectre took what he wanted. It was his choice.

“You’re mine,” he snarled in response.

Saren dropped his weight down and dug his teeth back into Garrus’ shoulder. His claws left gouges in the darker-grey plates of his partner’s biceps as he forced him to hilt. Pleasure swam behind his eyes, masking the pain of the unfamiliar stretch.

When he came back to himself, Garrus was thrusting upwards off the bed towards him. Fucking him as best he could from his pinned position below, the pace slow and even. The sniper’s claws had secured a hold on his hips and left trails of cobalt running down them in stark contrast with his near-white plates.

They were both a disaster.

It didn’t matter.

The biotic took control back, adjusting the speed and depth until he found the rhythm that worked best for them. It was dizzying, fucking like this. It wasn’t something that he often partook in, but it was working. Sovereign was blissfully silent.

When he came again, it was in a great burst across Garrus’ chest. He’d barely needed the touch of his partner’s calloused palm to pull him over the edge and the feeling of being filled in the moments following his own orgasm prolonged the feeling.

Together, they collapsed onto the bed.

Great breaths of air were taken in gasps. The air reeked of blood and sex.

“It’s still quiet,” Saren said aloud, more to himself than to his partner.

“Mhm…” Garrus mumbled back in agreement as he rolled onto his side to face him. “‘Good soundproofing?”

The Spectre blinked a few times, ignoring the idiocy of the statement. It had been meant as a joke, yet the Detective didn’t know what he was talking about. Saren supposed that some manner of explanation was required.

“No. In my head, it’s quiet.” He was aware that it was lunacy, but perhaps this was his only chance to explain what was going on even if it was difficult to put into words. “The Reapers, they speak. It’s insidious.”

Garrus pushed himself up on one elbow, looming over him. There was obvious confusion on his faceplates, but there was a knowing glint in his eyes too. “Is that what’s coming? Reapers.”

Somehow, Garrus didn’t think he was insane. Somehow, Garrus believed him.

He nodded once, eyes catching hold of Garrus’. His words started to fall from his throat like water breaking through a dam. “Yes, they’re coming and there’s no way to stop them. They’ve killed the entire galaxy a thousand times over, that’s what happened to the Protheans. The Reapers destroyed them. There’s no way to defeat them, we must submit before it’s too late.”

“Whoa, slow down, Saren.” Garrus’ hand settled onto his shoulder, grounding him. “There has to be a way.”

But Saren shook his head vigorously, he’d already tried. He was too weak to withstand the mind control and that left little hope for anyone else. “The only way we might be spared is if we choose to serve them. That’s the only way we survive, don’t you see?”

“No.” The hand slid to his chest, pressing him into the mattress, he would certainly be able to feel his heart pounding beneath the plating. “Work with me, Saren. Let me help you.”

Saren’s eyes shut and he shook his head again. He was more subdued this time, his voice wavering. “I’ve tried. For years. There is no way-”

A warm palm against his cheek stopped him from speaking and the press of a crest against his own kept him silent. Saren opened his eyes to see Garrus watching him. That glacial gaze of his caught him before he could fall any further down the well.

“You’re not alone,” he said with conviction. For a moment, Saren could believe it. Despite all the pain that he’d caused him, Garrus was still here. Maybe… maybe he was right. After a half-minute or so, Garrus pulled back.

“We can’t win,” Saren whispered.

“Not by ourselves,” Garrus agreed. “We need help.”

\- - -


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betas: [**Kuraiummei**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuraiummei/pseuds/Kuraiummei) and [**Some_Writer**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer)
> 
> Theme Music: [**Starset - Dark on Me**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yntDx4Y4baw)  
>  NSFW this chapter, stop at - “Let me keep it that way.”- restart at -His expression was so...-.

Chapter 4

\- - -

Garrus woke to the feeling of a hand sliding over his keel. Rough, calloused fingers scraping along the flat panes of his chest. It was hot, too hot in bed. For the first time in what felt like forever, sweat had begun pooling between his plates as he slept. The _Normandy_ was a cold ship, the humans were more like asari and kept the temperature far too cool for his liking.

He sighed, arching his back to press himself closer to the questing fingertips and talons. For now, his eyes remained closed as he just enjoyed the simple pleasure of being touched. Memories from the night before were foggy at best, still too far away from Garrus’ mind to really grasp onto.

A rumble of approval from his partner vibrated through his chest when his own hands found purchase against the male’s waist. Garrus dragged his talons lightly up and across Saren’s unplated abdomen, pulling a pleased groan from his throat. Saren’s mouth came down against the curve of his shoulder, not biting down but teasing lightly at the hide instead.

As awareness settled in, the Detective opened his eyes to the dim morning light streaming in through the window. It couldn’t have been long after daybreak. Too early to worry about needing to be back on the _Normandy_. One of his brow plates rose in question as he realized that Saren was actually still here… still touching him. An unexpected, yet welcomed, turn of events.

“You’re still here?” Garrus half moaned in approval as he felt his plates start to shift.

Saren didn’t reply beyond nipping at his throat a little harder, almost in a reprimand for stating the obvious. Garrus would have laughed had it been someone else, instead he opened himself up further to the teasing hands and tongue, letting himself relax into the most comfortable bed he’d slept on since leaving his apartment. He lamented that the humans didn’t have comfortable sleeping quarters either.

The pair continued a slow exploration of one another, an act so different from their previous couplings that Garrus was thrown for a loop. Between his sleep muzzied brain and the pleasant ache from their night’s activities, he didn’t find that he cared all that much. If anything, he wanted more. Saren’s metallic hand skated over his arm, it too was sleep warmed.

“It’s still quiet,” Saren said against Garrus’ saliva slicked throat after a long while. “So quiet.”

Garrus pressed a hand against Saren’s shoulder, flipping them over with a fluid grace that only came from years of sparring practice. He came up onto his knees, purring as he brought his own mouth to bear on the biotic’s neck. “Let me keep it that way.”

Humming an affirmative, Saren tilted his head back enough for Garrus to touch the entire expanse of his throat. His palms, his teeth, his tongue, his talon tips and the pads of his fingers… every part of him that could connect with the pale plates and hide displayed before him, did.

The bed moulded to Saren’s back, the pillows gave under his hands. Sheets were clasped within his tight grip and they spoke of quality when they didn’t tear.

Garrus’ legs found their way to either side of the Spectre’s thicker set waist. While his own plates spread enough for the tip of his cock to peak out of the seam, Saren’s were rapidly widening in time. The other male’s hands smoothed across his back and hips after releasing the cloth, firm but not rough. Nothing about this round was rough, no blood stained the bedding.

Soon, Saren was out of his plates in his entirety.

With an effortless roll of hips, the Spectre sheathed himself deep inside of Garrus’ cloaca. The Detective felt a wave of pleasure roll up his spine as he let out a deep rumble, allowing his chest to vibrate against his partner’s before pulling back to sit on his haunches and allowing him to hilt.

On his knees above Saren, Garrus let his mandibles fall loose and tilted his head back towards the ceiling. His eyes shut and his chest rose and fell rapidly. His hands fell to his sides, limp. Being so full, so satisfied, had his own length at full attention.

Garrus opened one eye at the sound of an amused rumble below him. His mandibles slid into a lopsided grin. “What?”

Below him, Saren’s hips rolled causing Garrus to make a quick, unsteady grab for the biotic’s keel to keep his balance. “Mmmm… you were taking too long.”

Instead of replying, Garrus rolled his eyes in a very human show of annoyance, but he still started moving. There were a few habits the Detective had picked up since joining C-Sec, most of them were ways to express annoyance or frustration, shrugs and eye rolls. The other species were much less vocal, with poor audible ranges. Many turians in the force picked up the smaller nuisances for their human and asari partners. The younger generation was forever ‘ruined’, his father would say.

The pace Garrus set was slow, a long drawn out pull before a languid drop until he could feel Saren’s pelvic plates against his ass. Delicious friction built between them, only enhanced by the Spectre’s unusually gentle touch as a rough palm caressed his sore hips and waist. The other male’s metallic hand helped the roll of their hips along by holding fast to his hip crest, guiding the motion. They moved together, the rhythm natural even after only a few couplings.

Garrus had never felt intimacy just _work_ with another before now.

The stray thought made him stutter in his thrusts, but Saren took up the slack flawlessly. Without warning, the Detective found his back against the soft sheets and a solid weight above him. Saren kept the rotation of his hips slow, drawing out their pleasure. They moaned in tandem as the pace levelled off into steadily coiling pleasure. Garrus’ legs wound around Saren’s, interlocking spurs as the end came closer. It appeared to Garrus as though Saren was enjoying this as much as he was, their voices melding in the quiet of the hotel room.

Not that he needed it, but Saren’s hand winding around his member brought him to the edge that much quicker. Garrus let go, eyes shut tight and his head thrown back into the pillows. Saren followed him, burying himself to the hilt as he came and pressed his face into the sniper’s neck.

Coming down never felt sweeter than it did this time.

Garrus didn’t want the moment to end, and certainly didn’t want Saren to leave, making him whine for the loss of connection when he pulled out. The feeling of their escapades leaking out of his body made him feel weak in the knees. It was only his hand unconsciously reaching out to grasp Saren’s wrist that stopped the biotic from leaving the bed entirely. His lover turned back, kneeling half off the bed with an expectant look in his electric eyes.

His expression was so... _different_ from how it had looked during the interrogation.

Saren’s eyes were clear.

Following him, Garrus cupped one of Saren’s mandibles with his hand. The other slid down to intertwine with the biotic’s fingers. Without letting himself think too hard about it, Garrus pressed his crest against Saren’s. Connecting them without closing his own eyes.

Together their chests rose and fell. Silence surrounding them.

Much to Garrus’ surprise, Saren didn’t pull away.

Their eyes met.

Ice melting for the burning heat of Saren’s gaze.

Garrus pulled away first. His breaths came in great gasps. Whatever had just passed between them was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It felt wrong… it felt right… he… he didn’t know. His throat felt dry, body stiff. “Saren?”

“...Garrus.”

The nonchalance in his voice seemed forced, as though there was more feeling beneath the surface and Saren didn’t know how to voice it or didn’t want to. The Spectre slid his free hand up the length of Garrus’ arm, the metal causing him to shiver. The touch stopped over the scabbed marks from teeth and talons the night before. Eyes trailed over Garrus’ body and stopped momentarily at each one.

The sniper watched him wordlessly, stricken silent by emotion but with subvocals roiling with all he wanted to say; his body a mess of scrapes and dried blood.

“I’ve got medigel,” Saren told him. “Your team will be suspicious if you come back marked up like this.”

Just like that, the spell was broken. Garrus shook his head to rid himself of the fog, “Yeah. Good point. Should shower too. Krogan.” Just like Saren’s tone, the explanation felt forced. He didn’t want to lose Saren’s scent.

_‘What in the Spirit’s names just happened?’_

+-+-+-+

The _Normandy’s_ next stop was the planet Feros.

It was just as much of a -‘What did Williams call it? A shitshow?’- As the rest of their missions had been thus far. The colony’s population had been possessed of a sort by the massive plant-like lifeform living beneath their outpost. There were rabid varren that screamed as they died making suicidal runs against the well-equipped shore team. Worst of all, the entire ground team got absolutely _covered_ in creeper slime.

The feeling of the wet, sticky goop made Garrus’ plates itch and his spine tingle. He should have worn a Spirits-damned helmet. The Commander refused to let anyone aboard in armour, which was why everyone had stripped down to their undersuits in the cargo bay. Thankfully, Tali hadn’t been along with them. She probably would have gotten a pass for getting onto the ship, but it would have taken her days to get the slime off.

Garrus visibly shuddered as he began stripping the undersuit off his plates. Somehow the refuse had leaked through. No matter how cold the cargo bay was, he needed to be rid of the soiled clothing. Glancing up, Wrex was doing the same as was Williams and Shepard.

It wasn’t awkward until he was bare to the waist.

“Uh… Garrus?” Shepard said.

The turian looked up, finding that the three of them were, quite blatantly, staring at him. He blinked a few times, cocking his head to the side. “What?”

Williams pointed at him, gesturing to his chest. “Are uh… you alright?”

Garrus’ head drew back as he flinched, taken by surprise at the tone of concern coming from the human marine. He’d thought she didn’t give a shit about him, though what she was on about, he had no idea. Glancing down at his chest again, realization dawned. He blinked twice, mandibles drawing into his face and jaw going tight.

“I’m fine.”

While Shepard waved Williams off, gesturing for her to head to the lift, Wrex started laughing. The krogan’s deep belly-laugh echoed in the cargo bay as he followed the human.

“Turian likes it rough apparently!”

Garrus felt his neck grow warm and he was sure his throat had tinted blue as he flushed. Medigel had worked wonders to close the wounds, it just didn’t heal cuts and bite marks quite fast enough to prevent the crew from seeing them. Admittedly, the bruising was suspect abound the tops of his hips and at the base of his throat.

“Garrus, is there something you want to tell me?” the Commander’s arms crossed over his bare chest. He too had scars, but his were old and faded. Looking at them, Garrus could tell one was a knife wound and another a gunshot.

He felt his stomach drop out from under him at the question. He couldn’t look at Shepard, his eyes locked to the floor somewhere off to the Commander’s left. “No, sir.”

There was a moment’s pause before the human took a step forward, reaching out to touch his shoulder. Garrus flinched back before the hand could contact his plates. He didn’t want… whatever the hell Shepard was offering. He didn’t need it.

He seemed taken aback but didn’t try it again. Instead, Shepard dropped his hand and said: “Go see Chakwas later for some medigel.”

“Yes, sir.”

After that the Commander left, leaving him alone in the cargo hold. Garrus took the time to pick up everyone’s discarded gear and he stacked what he could into the automatic cleaner near the lockers. He took a fair amount of time, much longer than he really needed to. At this moment, he was willing to do almost anything to avoid another awkward encounter with one of the crew members.

A glance at his omnitool gave him enough assurance that the showers would be clear.

His bare feet clicked across the metal floor between the elevator and the bathroom. The room blissfully empty when he entered and finished stripping off his undersuit. The marks on his hips were deeper than those on his chest, he sighed. It was a damn good thing he hadn’t been too quick in undressing below deck.

Garrus felt like an idiot for forgetting about them in the first place.

The slime came off under the warm spray with a liberal application of soap and elbow grease. He could have stood for the water to be a little hotter, but just like the rest of the ship, it was tuned for humans, regardless of any Hierarchy assistance in its construction. The Detective longed for the hotel’s shower, where Saren had pinned him to the wall to fuck him one last time before he left. The water had been just right, hot enough to scald human flesh.

Just thinking about that last foray with Saren was enough to get his plates loose. Shutting his eyes, Garrus willed them closed. This was not the time.

He finished cleaning up and palmed the shower off. Towelling himself down, he stepped out of the stall and picked up his soiled clothing to toss into the laundry chute. The room was a bit of a mess, slime had congealed near the drain and Garrus pitied the crewman that had to clean it. All he knew is that it wasn’t going to be him, he did his part.

A ping from his wrist alerted him to an incoming message.

Garrus opened up his omnitool after wrapping the towel around his waist and securing it over his hip joint. The hum of curiosity was quickly stifled by him choking on his own saliva.

_//_

_[From: K Chakwas MD - Location: Attican Beta / Theseus System / Normandy SR-1]_

_[To: TrueShot - Location: Attican Beta / Theseus System / Normandy SR-1]_

_[Subject: Medi-gel]_

_Officer Vakarian._

_The Commander mentioned you may need some supplies, I’ve left a kit out for you. If you require assistance please stop by at the start of shift._

_Attached is a questionnaire I’d like you to complete._

_Goodnight,_

_Chakwas_

_[End Message Text] - [Document Attached - Domestic Violence Questionnaire]_

_//_

If his throat hadn’t been blue earlier, it was now.

+-+-+-+

The incident aside, Garrus settled into life on the _Normandy_ well.

He learned how to make himself useful by fixing up the Mako and helping Williams with weapons maintenance whenever the crew returned from missions. Slowly, he and Tali got over his initial species bias and became friends, bonding over tech. He and Wrex started sparring. He and Kaidan began teaching one another how to make their respective rations edible.

Garrus also got to know the Commander better, and they talked daily. John would come down after his rounds and sit with him while he tinkered on the tank. Passing him tools as they were needed. They discussed growing up, their early service years, even their relationships with their families.

It was a good life, despite his lingering secret.

The more time went by, the worse Garrus was beginning to feel about keeping his relationship with Saren under wraps. He’d never been much of a liar and sometimes it felt like his plates itched under his armour. It also got harder to keep his secret.

One day, when Garrus was feeling particularly guilty, he accidentally let himself slip. It wasn’t anything particularly big, just… a let on that something was bothering him. The Commander latched onto it and refused to let it go.

“Come on, G…” Shepard egged him on. “Just tell me what’s up.”

Garrus was glad he was underneath the tank, it gave him a moment to collect himself and think of a good enough cover story as he pushed himself out from under the vehicle. “It’s just… an old case. That’s all.”

The Commander passed him a rag to wipe his talons on and gestured for him to continue on.

“I remembered this salarian geneticist I was sent to investigate,” Garrus began, choosing his words carefully. “That case was a bit… disturbing.”

Shepard’s head tilted to the side as he listened, giving over his full attention to the tale. “What happened? Why were you investigating him?”

He sighed. Now he needed to follow through.

“I was tasked with tracking black market trade off of the Citadel. Most of its harmless. Nothing I needed to pursue. But during the course of my investigation, I noticed an increase in the trade of body parts. Organ, mostly. We usually get a few of those, but not the numbers I was seeing. We weren’t sure if there was a new black market lab or if some freak was harvesting organs from citizens.”

“So what was it?” he seemed genuine in his interest. The human’s focus remained on him, it made Garrus feel trapped.

“Both, actually.” Garrus rubbed one hand along the length of his fringe, stalling for a moment before admitting that it took him and his team a while to figure out what had been happening. “First, we got a hold of a sample and ran DNA tests. The weird thing was, the match led us to a turian who was still alive and was very convinced he’d never lost his liver. After a bit of digging, I discovered this turian worked briefly for Dr. Saleon, the geneticist. So I went to his lab, hoping to find evidence of cloned organ development. But there was nothing. No salarian hearts, no turian livers, not one krogan testicle.”

The Commander stopped him with a laugh, his hand shoving his shoulder. Garrus chuckled, amazed that he hadn’t heard of a krogan quad before. It wasn’t exactly a secret. “They’ll pay up to 10,000 credits each. That’s 40,000 for a full set. Somebody’s making a killing out there.”

Once the laughter died down, Garrus continued on with the story.

“I hope he got what he deserved.”

Garrus sighed as he came to the end: “That’s the worst part. We never caught him.”

“Why not?” The Commander was outraged by the twist in his story. The links in his brain seemed to be connecting and Shepard could empathize with him. It was enough to throw him off the real source of Garrus’ guilt. “What the hell happened?”

“He ran,” Garrus told him. “Blew his lab, grabbed some of his employees, and headed for the nearest space dock. By the time I found out, his ship was already leaving. He threatened to kill his hostages if we tried to stop him.”

“But you went after him anyway, right?”

He shook his head, mouth plates clamping shut for a moment before he was able to finish. “I ordered Citadel defence to shoot him down, but C-Sec headquarters countermanded my order. They were worried about the hostages. Worried about civilian casualties if the ship was destroyed so close to the Citadel. I told them those hostages were dead anyway. He’d just use them to make more organs. But they wouldn’t listen.”

Shepard scoffed. “No wonder you hated it there. Those idiots just let him fly away.”

“Yes, they did. I went to Pallin and told him what I thought of him and his policies. He said if I didn’t like it, I could quit. I almost did. All they had to do was disable that ship. Stop him from running. Maybe the hostages die, maybe they don’t. But at least we stop the bastard responsible for it all.”

“A few casualties is a small price to pay to stop someone like that.”

While Garrus agreed with the Commander, Pallin had not. Civilian lives had been at stake and public relations won out over the greater good. The Detective hated it and it appeared that John did too, because next, he said: “I’ll check out the coordinates when I get a chance.”

Guilt welled up again, pressure building behind his keel. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

+-+-+-+

Early in the shift, Garrus found himself in the depths of the cargo bay. Stripped of his armour to his waist as he continued to work on the Mako. Sweat had built between his plates as he removed the rear driver’s side wheel. His shoulders and chest had long since healed over from his escapades with Saren.

In fact, he hadn’t heard from the Spectre since Noveria.

Shepard had continued tracking him across the galaxy, though they were always one step behind or more. The relief the Detective had felt at not being contacted warred with disappointment. He hated that Saren had left him out in the proverbial cold with no way to get in contact.

His bare hands were covered in grease and he was sure that his cheek had a smear across it too. His nasal plates had stopped twitching for the smell long ago. There was a lot to do to prepare for Virmire. Shepard had all but destroyed the tank by flipping it after trying to scale the side of a mountain.

Garrus sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he went for a wrench in the toolkit. He liked the Commander, he really did, but he hated letting the man drive… if it could even be called driving.

Shepard was true to his word after their discussion about Saleon. A short time after searching out Wrex’s clan armour, Moreau had picked up the transponder signal for Saleon’s ship. Despite everything else going on, the Commander made taking the corrupt scientist down a priority.

Together, along with Tali, they infiltrated the ship and rid the galaxy of the salarian menace. It hadn’t gone down exactly as Garrus had expected it to, Shepard wouldn’t allow him to kill the doctor in cold blood. Instead, they’d waited for him to shoot first. Regardless of how it was done, Doctor Heart wouldn’t be a problem anymore.

Down in the hanger, Garrus grunted as he tightened one of the bolts on the Mako’s wheel assembly, his mind wandering. It had been tempting to go against orders and put the bastard down on his own, too tempting in fact. He wondered for a moment what Saren would have done differently.

The answer was obvious, Saren wouldn’t have hesitated.

His mandibles rotated against his jaw as he tried to determine which method was best. Intellectually, Garrus understood both arguments. His heart pulled him one way, with Saren. His mind pulled him the other, with Shepard. The debate wasn’t new. Since he was a fledge his father had been giving him scenarios like that one. Their methods differed, but the result was the same.

The bolt creaked as he tried to tighten it further than the metal would allow and the sniper backed it off a quarter turn to ensure he didn’t leave it too snug for the humans to remove if necessary. Sometimes it was easy to forget they weren’t as strong as him, not after they kept pace in the field. Shepard, Alenko and Williams all managed to keep up. Whether that was augments, gene mods, or plain old hard work he didn’t know. Maybe a combination of the three.

He circled the vehicle and started work on the opposing side, his mind still going a few hundred metres a second as he considered the options. Killing Saleon wasn’t satisfying. All of his hostages had been dead or soon to die anyway. Stopping the salarian meant no more would suffer, that was all.

It didn’t bring Garrus the peace of mind like he thought it should.

Bringing the madman to justice wouldn’t have been satisfying either. Not if there was even a slight chance that he’d get off with a slap on the wrist. The very concept was infuriating. Neither option was ideal.

Garrus would have continued getting lost within his own mind had it not been for the priority ping alerting him to a new message on his omnitool. He deduced without difficulty that they must have just gotten into the range of the system’s comm buoy.

Abandoning the lug nut he was tightening, Garrus pulled up the message. Bright blue eyes scanned it three times before he registered the words in front of him. Saren had sent him a warning. Saren was here, on Virmire.

_//_

_[From: Unknown Sender - Location: Unknown / Unknown / Unknown]_

_[To: TrueShot - Location: Sentry Omega / Hoc System / Normandy SR-1]_

_[Subject: No Subject]_

_Don’t go planetside._

_[End Message Text]_

_//_

There was a dull, metallic thump as his cowl impacted the side of the tank and he slid down to the floor. Garrus’ eyes cinched together and his mandibles hung loosely from his jaw. This… this couldn’t be right. Saren wouldn’t just alert him to stay away for no reason. There had to be something behind the message, something bad. He just knew it.

Time to contemplate the matter was too short, as no sooner than he closed out his tool and started scraping his talons over his fringe did Shepard appear from around the corner of the Mako.

“Hey, are uh… you alright?”

Garrus barely managed to stop himself from saying no. The word caught in his throat, he couldn’t tell John. Not now. Instead, he pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth and forced the word back down.

Beside him, Shepard squatted down and reached out a hand to place it on his shoulder. “Want to talk about what’s going on in there?”

“Not really,” he huffed without brushing the Commander’s hand away.

“Is this about Saren?”

Garrus stiffened despite himself. _‘How had he…’_

“It’s okay, Garrus. I’m nervous about it too,” he dropped down onto the floor beside him, resting his back against the cool metal. “I’m starting to wonder whether we’ll ever find him. He’s always one step ahead of us. And he’s got those damn geth…” he shrugged. “We’re getting close, Garrus. We’ll find him.”

“I wish I had your confidence,” he mumbled while trying to think of something to say to salvage this. Show Shepard that he was really on his side. Garrus brought his hand up to scratch at the painted line beneath his visor. “Can I ask you something, Commander?”

“Of course,” Shepard encouraged, twisting to face him a little better.

The Detective’s mouth opened and closed a few times as he formulated the question, his mandibles fluttering a little with his uncertainty. “What are you going to do to Saren when we catch up with him?”

There. He’d asked the question, now all he needed to do was wait for an answer. His nerves be damned. Shepard was taking his time formulating a response, maybe it was because he didn’t want to contradict himself after Saleon or maybe he hadn’t actually thought about it too deeply.

“Well… if Saren won’t listen to reason if he forces my hand? I’ll kill him in a heartbeat but only if it’s absolutely necessary.”

Garrus’ mandibles pulled into his face. It was what he wanted to hear, but not all at once. “What’s the point in keeping him alive? It'll just give him an opportunity to escape or convince the Council to listen to him. And what about the geth? They might try to free him.”

“We know more about Saren’s plans than anyone,” Shepard told him seriously. “But what do we really know? If we just kill him, we lose the chance to find out.”

That was true. Garrus nodded and conceded the point. “Yeah, I see your point. Do you really think there is more to know other than the fact that he’s a raving lunatic?” The personal attack slid from his tongue like a two-way poison.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Shepard stood up to leave. “But it’s not a chance I’m willing to take.”

“Yes, sir.”

Garrus watched the Commander’s back until he rounded the Mako. He had a lot more to think about now than when he’d gotten up that morning. Ahead of them, Virmire loomed and he had a sinking feeling that things were not going to be easy.

+-+-+-+

Garrus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Saren… he’d… _Spirits_.

Yet again, they’d been too late. Only this time they were going to lose one of their own. As he ran a pace behind Shepard with Wrex at his heels, his mind raced. Williams was going to die protecting the damn bomb. The bomb that was only necessary because Saren was trying to create an army of krogan.

Not to mention the fact he’d just met _Sovereign_ , the Reaper who was controlling everything from behind the scenes. It had been terrifying, watching the projection speak to them… tell them that they were doomed. Shepard seemed convinced they could stop the Reapers, Garrus, on the other hand, was skeptical. If Saren didn’t think they could... if Saren would willingly serve such a master? They were as doomed as it said.

Garrus pushed the thoughts of _Sovereign_ to the back of his mind to deal with later, right now he needed all of his mental and physical energy for fighting. Otherwise, they could very well lose more than just Williams.

Going back for Alenko and the salarians made sense. Perfect sense, it was simple calculus. Still, the decision weighed heavy on Shepard’s conscience. It was no wonder Saren had warned him against coming here. The mission had gone to shit. People were going to die and had it not been for the salarian distraction, it could have been him right along with the rest.

By the time they reached the AA towers, the salarians and Alenko were pinned down. The added force the squad brought managed to bring the geth to their knees. Shepard should have been able to radio the _Normandy_ for pickup… instead, Saren appeared out of the sky.

Garrus froze, ice sinking into his gut at the sight of him.

There was no warning before the Spectre started shooting at them. A great bolt of biotic energy shot out from his hands and exploded upon impact with the ground. Thankfully for Garrus, he wasn’t in the direct line of fire. Saren was aiming for Shepard, which saved him from sure death at his lover’s hands. Wrex intentionally shoulder checked him, forcing him to move. The jolt brought him back to the fight around them and out of his head.

When the Detective managed to get himself moving, he went straight for cover. His heart thundered so hard from behind his keel that it made Garrus want to tear it out if only to make the sensation stop so he could think straight. Once he regained his breath, he peaked over the half-wall. Wrex had gone to cover as well and Saren had gotten off of his hovercraft.

Shepard took three shots before ducking back into cover, not a single one of them penetrated Saren’s barrier or shields. The turian kept coming at him until Shepard disappeared too.

“This has been an impressive diversion, Shepard,” Saren said, his voice booming across the distance between them. “My geth were utterly convinced the salarians were the real threat. Of course, it was all for nothing. I can’t let you disrupt what I have accomplished here. You can’t possibly understand what’s really at stake.”

“Why are you doing this?” the Commander called back. He caught Garrus’ eye, hand moving through a few Alliance hand signals to give him a plan. ‘ _I’ll keep him talking, flank him.’_

Garrus nodded once, exaggerated to ensure Shepard saw it, before stowing his rifle and starting to move. With only his pistol in his hand, it was easy to keep low and out of sight. Saren’s attention remained on Shepard as he started explaining his thoughts on the Reapers, how they were going to destroy all the species of the Milky Way if they didn’t submit.

What he was saying… it couldn’t possibly be true. Yet the visions Shepard talked about matched what Saren was saying. They’d seen the same thing and come to polar opposite conclusions. Garrus stuttered to a halt behind another wall, halfway to the post he’d picked out. Very suddenly he realized that he didn’t know which of them was right.

_‘Is submission not preferable to extinction?’_

Before now, Garrus hadn’t known which of the Spectres to side with, Shepard or Saren. Hearing both sides… it only now became clear which side he needed to be on. Submission was never preferable. It wasn’t in the turian mindset to kneel before your oppressor. Saren was too far gone. These experiments were too much. Instantly, regret for helping the male ate at his conscience. Before it had been the secret, now it was the act itself.

“You’re like every other poor bastard in this place,” Shepard taunted, trying to get a rise out of Saren. “A tool _Sovereign_ can use, then cast aside.”

The Sniper gave his head a shake and kept moving. He had to keep going, Shepard was relying on him. Though… despite the revelation, he didn’t know if he could hold a bead on Saren. He was too involved and now he was going to pay for it.

“My mind is still my own… for now.” As Garrus moved between two of the pillars, Saren looked his way at just the right time. Their gazes met. The ex-Spectre’s eyes were not his own. “I will not let it happen to me.”

Saren looked away first. Garrus kept going.

A contradiction stuck in his mind: _‘You already did.’_

It was that moment of connection when he realized that this wasn’t the Saren that had been with him the morning after meeting on Noveria. It wasn’t the same turian that had cleaned his wounds and applied medigel to his hide. Nor was it the turian who pressed his crest to his before he disappeared out the hotel room door. His Saren wasn’t here, an impostor stood in his place. A keen rose to choke the sniper, making it hard to breathe as he fought for control.

The argument continued. Back and forth the two of them went, all of the reasons for Saren’s work were explained. Shepard refuting each point. Garrus was situated on the other side of the field before they finished, Wrex in the centre and Shepard at the closer side. A fight was about to ensue. It might not be the same Saren, but he… he could still be in there….

“You would doom our entire civilization to complete annihilation!” the ex-Spectre snarled, readying his biotics once again. “And for that, you must die.”

The battle that came next was one of the hardest in Garrus’ life. _Sovereign_ must have done something to change him because Saren was impossibly strong. Stronger than any single turian could be. Even an ex-Cabal shouldn’t have been able to withstand the force of three highly trained operatives.

Biotics flew, bullets were fired. It was a mess.

Eventually, Saren tossed a grenade across the field. It staggered Wrex and threw Shepard to the ground a few feet away. Garrus was too far to be injured by the blast, his rifle was trained on Saren’s head, the other male’s shields flickered weakly. Now was his chance.

Garrus struggled to pull the trigger.

He couldn’t shoot.

Saren’s shields failed as he stalked towards the recovering Commander. He threw his rifle to the side and growled deep in his throat, the sound utterly feral. Garrus readjusted his grip, tore a breath from the air and...

He couldn’t shoot.

With a single hand, Saren ripped Shepard off the ground by his throat. Had the Commander not held onto his arm, he might’ve broken the humans’ neck. A few feet away, Wrex failed to get to his feet. The krogan wouldn’t be able to help.

“Saren!” Garrus yelled, his second voice cracking with the anguished plea.

It was enough. The biotic’s attention was torn from Shepard for a single moment, just long enough for him to pull his arm back and punch Saren square in the jaw. A sharp crack sounded out as the metal gauntlet impacted plate with a sickening crack.

Saren stumbled back, tripping over his own feet and falling. Shepard was scrambling for breath and Wrex was still disoriented from the blast. It was now, or never.

Garrus held his rifle tight enough that the metal creaked, he should have taken the shot right then, but couldn’t. He tried, so damn hard. His finger refused to tighten over the trigger, a mere two kilograms of pressure would end the threat that not-Saren represented to the galaxy. Their eyes locked for the second time that day.

This time, they were clear and afraid.

Garrus exhaled fully for the first time since he’d gotten the message to stay away. He wouldn’t shoot.

However long they looked at one another, Garrus didn’t know. It might’ve been a moment or a lifetime. The spell was finally broken as Saren got to his feet and ran for his hovercraft. By the time Shepard had risen, it was too late. Saren, or whatever part of him that was left inside that half-crazed shell, was gone.

The Detective felt Shepard’s eyes on him, but there wasn’t time to argue now, not with a bomb ready to go off. The _Normandy_ was here, and they needed to go.

\- - -


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betas: [**White_Aster**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Aster) and [**Some_Writer**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer)
> 
> Theme Music: [**Framing Hanley - No Saving Me**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yu_HJiKef2c)  
> 

Chapter 5

\- - -

Garrus’ jaw creaked with tension.

His mandibles were pinned to his face, shoulders crowded inward and his hands tight on his armoured knees. Not only had Saren been one step ahead of them, yet again, but they’d actually lost one of their team. If he hadn’t been feeling guilty before, then he was now.

Upon returning to the _Normandy_ after the battle on Virmire, Shepard sent the crew their separate ways for an hour so that they could change and grab something to eat before debrief. Though, Garrus suspected it was more to do with the Commander himself needing a little distance from all that had just happened. He’d stood in the cockpit with Joker and watched the detonation occur before heading for his quarters alone.

In the briefing room, the entire ground team sat silently as Alenko and the Commander discussed the merits of leaving Williams behind. Garrus wanted to smack the biotic for how callous he was being, the survivor’s guilt eating away at the Lieutenant sat on the forefront, yet he forced himself to remain silent. It wasn’t his place to interrupt, not anymore.

As they argued, Garrus took a moment to survey the rest of the crew. Wrex stood silently by the door, too big for the tiny chairs. His arms were crossed over his chest and a stormy expression had settled over his features. The rigid lines of Tali’s body suggested that she was on the verge of tears. Despite her envirosuit, he could tell. Liara had her arms wrapped around her middle as she watched the Commander and Alenko, looking just as desperate to intrude as he felt.

Shepard… well, Shepard wouldn’t look at him.

A dark, purple bruise bloomed along the edge of the Commander’s collar. The edges of his jaw were discoloured yellow. He held himself carefully both when he walked and spoke, as though every movement came at a painful price.

Garrus didn’t doubt that it was. He remembered the feel of Saren’s hand around his own neck. And back then, Saren hadn’t been looking to kill.

On Virmire, the Sniper had the chance to end him. To kill Saren Arterius with a single bullet through the skull. His shields had been down, his barrier too. There had been nothing stopping Garrus but sentiment. And it was that sentimentality that caused him to fail his friend.

So easily, it could have been Shepard lying dead on Virmire… or he supposed his body would have been ash by now. Just like Williams. Garrus managed to stifle a keen. Instead, his gauntlet creaked as his fist tightened.

Wrex’s eyes flicked towards him. His mouth quirked into something like a frown before the expression disappeared. The krogan knew something was up. Everyone else was about to know too. It was only a matter of time. His stomach did flip-flops as he waited to be addressed. He wasn’t sure if the Commander was going to do it in front of everyone or wait until they were alone.

Unable to hold her silence another minute, Liara stood from her chair and swept in to stop the argument from escalating between the humans. She offered to help Shepard understand his vision so that they might figure out where Saren was headed next. So that -maybe- they could catch up to him for once and bring him down.

“Relax, Commander,” she encouraged with a sympathetic smile. Her fingertips touched down onto Shepard’s forehead as her eyes went dark. “Embrace Eternity.”

Watching the act of an Embrace hadn’t been comfortable the first time for Garrus, nor the rest of the crew if his gauge of their reactions was accurate. Wrex grumbled, Tali and Alenko looked away. Garrus though… he forced himself to put on the investigative mask and watch it happen. Just in case.

The act itself seemed too intimate, it left the pair too open. Yet, when Shepard stumbled back a step, Liara had answers for them. “There were other images. Locations. Places I recognized from my research… Ilos! The Conduit is on Ilos! That is why Saren needed to find the Mu Relay! It is the only way to get to Ilos.”

“How come you never told us about Ilos before?” Shepard snapped. The Embrace hadn’t seemed to calm him in the slightest, if anything he was more agitated than before as he began to pace the briefing room, one hand rubbing his temple. His eyes were pinched against the bright overhead lights, as though he had a bad headache.

The Detective could feel the agitation roll off of his friend in waves. He hated that he couldn’t do anything to help for the moment. Remaining silent, he watched on as Liara defended herself and Tali tried to explain that they couldn’t go to Illos. Shepard wasn’t having any of it. His decision was firm, they would get to Ilos before Saren.

They would avenge William’s death.

“We’re done here,” the Commander said, looking across the tired faces of his crew. “Dismissed.” As they all rose, Shepard turned on him. Venom in his voice. “Not you.”

Garrus soundlessly dropped back into his chair. “Of course, Commander.”

As the others started leaving, the Sniper could feel the dread under his plates coming to a head. He’d been wracking his mind over the past few weeks on how to even broach the topic… he’d never gotten as far as actually figuring out what to say once he brought his relationship with Saren up.

Liara was helped out of the room by Alenko and Tali. Whereas Wrex was slow to push himself off of the wall, he eyed Garrus quizzically for a moment before looking to Shepard and back again. He voiced nothing, but his look said enough. He was curious, yet smart enough to wait until later to ask questions.

Wrex stretched out his shoulders before turning away and it wasn’t until the door slid closed behind the krogan, leaving him alone with the Commander, that Shepard let out the breath he’d been holding in his lungs. Other than stress, Garrus couldn’t determine what the human was feeling. He hated not being able to read the man he’d spent the last few months befriending. Although… he didn’t feel like he deserved that right anymore.

Before he could say a word, Joker interrupted.

_“Commander, there’s a comm buoy nearby. I can link us in if you want to report back to the Citadel Council. You know, to warn them about Sovereign.”_

Shepard’s eyes closed as he inhaled sharply, needing a moment before he could wind down enough to answer his pilot. “Set the link up, Joker. They need to know.”

_“Patching it through.”_

Before the system could boot up, Shepard glanced back to Garrus. “Can I trust you to stay, or should I be sending you to the brig?”

“I’ll stay,” Garrus replied without hesitation, he was loyal to Shepard’s cause.

The Commander had earned his loyalty after Saleon and Garrus hoped he’d won John’s trust in return. He knew now that he should have told him long ago about his relationship with Saren. He should have told him about Noveria.

He knew that now.

_‘What was that phrase the humans sometimes used? Better late, than never.’_

Shepard nodded and turned around to step onto the platform that would project his image across the cosmos. In turn, three orange figures appeared before him, the Citadel Council. While the Commander spoke with them, Garrus remained silent in the background, listening in as he tried to wrap his head around how he was going to explain his involvement with Saren.

At first, the Council seemed to be pleased with Shepard and his progress. Even Sparatus was impressed that they’d taken out Saren’s operation and saved the salarian STG team. Though… the longer they spoke, the more agitated his Commander got. The Council refused to acknowledge the true threat.

“ _Sovereign’s_ real. The Reapers are real. Saren even admitted it!”

 _“He’s playing you, Shepard!”_ Sparatus scoffed, but Garrus could hear the uncertainty in his second voice. There was more the Council knew than what they were letting on. _“Saren still has contacts on the Citadel. He probably saw your earlier reports. The ones talking about your vision. And the Reapers.”_

Valern agreed with his colleague and it only made Shepard angrier. “I tried to warn you about Saren. You didn’t believe me then, and look how that turned out!”

Sparatus growled, low in his throat, tilting his crest downwards in a show of distrust for the human. For some reason, he thought it appropriate to mock the Commander, _“I believe you humans have a saying: even a broken clock is right twice a day.”_

The viciousness of his words made Garrus rise to his feet. Shepard noticed and waved him off with the Alliance symbol for _halt_ behind his back. Obeying, the Sniper reined himself in, taking a step away and putting his hands behind his back to give them something better to do than round into fists at his sides.

“Here’s another saying: ‘Go to hell!’”

 _“Maybe we were wrong about you, Shepard,”_ the turian sneered. _“Maybe humans are too hot-headed to be Spectres.”_

Tevos finally saw fit to step in, defusing the situation without any more proverbial bloodshed. The conversation didn’t last much longer past that and, despite the way it began, it somehow managed to end with good wishes and a reminder that the most important goal was to keep the galaxy safe from harm. No matter who or what was the cause of it. _“Good luck, Commander. From all of us.”_

The three projections winked out, seeming to take the Commander’s rage along with them.

When Shepard turned around he didn’t zero back in on him right away, as Garrus had expected. Instead, he walked over to one of the chairs on the opposing side of the room and dropped down heavily. His elbows went to his knees and his face fell into his hands.

Garrus stood in silence for a moment, just watching. He couldn’t help but feel a little stunned at the change in his Commander. He could see the exhausted curve of his spine and the tension bleeding out of him. Shepard’s fingers rubbed at his forehead like he was trying to release a muscle knot, almost as though the headache was cripplingly painful,

When he could bear it no longer, the Sniper crossed the room to sit down beside him. At first, he said nothing. Allowing Shepard to be the first to break the foreboding silence. The Commander’s hands dropped to his lap and he looked sidelong at him. His voice even and low, though anger still simmered beneath the surface. “You had the shot! You could have ended it right there.”

Garrus flinched away from the harsh accusation. Though it wasn’t out of shame or regret, it was remorse. He couldn’t kill Saren, but he didn’t want Shepard dead either.

“You didn’t take it,” Shepard bit out, his anger dissipating and, in its wake, gut-wrenching disappointment.

It hadn’t been a question, yet Garrus felt the need to reply. “No.”

They watched one another for a moment. Shepard almost daring him to remain silent in wake of the unsaid question, _why not?_ But Garrus was no coward, not anymore. He steadied himself, deciding against humour. It wouldn’t have worked anyway.

“I couldn’t shoot him, Shepard. That wasn’t Saren… not really.” The Commander’s expression shifted into confusion. Before he could ask, Garrus tried to explain. “You and Saren, you’re on the same side… you’re just going about it in different ways. You both want the galaxy to survive. Saren doesn’t believe the Reapers can be stopped. You do.” Garrus inclined his head, meeting the Commander’s gaze head-on. “I do.”

“How do you know that?” Shepard’s eyebrows knitted together as he fixed him with a baffled look.

“I... “ Garrus grit his teeth together hard enough to bleed his gums. Then, taking a deep breath, he forged ahead. After all the Commander had done for him, was doing for the galaxy, Garrus could spare him something as simple as the truth. He only wished that the truth itself was simple.

“It started before I met you,” he began in an even tone, subvocals flat. “It was after my interrogation failed. Saren invited me to his apartment under the premise of learning investigative techniques. I was no threat to him, and he had nothing to lose. For some stupid reason, I agreed.”

Shepard sat up a little in his chair, not interrupting him or saying a word. He just looked on expectantly and Garrus opened up.

“Sleeping with him was never my intention,” Garrus said. Out of his periphery, he caught Shepard flinching away in surprise, but he held his silence for the moment and so Garrus forged on. “He told me that what he was doing was for the greater good of the galaxy. That he needed turians like me to help. He was a Spectre, I… idolized him. Given the opportunity, I said ‘yes.’”

When the Sniper turned to look at the human, the Commander’s head tilted to the side a little. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he decided on words. “And this happened more than once?”

Garrus swallowed the dread in his throat and resisted the urge to look away. “Noveria.”

“Wait… that’s… that’s what those marks were from?” Shepard stood up, entering his space to tower over him. Garrus needed to tilt his head back to look up at him, the movement unnatural considering Shepard’s threatening posture. Every one of Garrus’ instincts protested the action of exposing his throat.

“Yeah.” The hide of his neck tinted blue in embarrassment.

Just as he thought Shepard was going to get angrier with him, the opposite happened. The human backed off and one of his hands rose to rub through his buzzed hair. “If he hurt you, why didn’t you just tell me? If he was coercing you...”

“It… wasn’t… it wasn’t like that.” Garrus shook his head and looked away, this time his surrender felt warranted as he tilted his head back, exposing his throat to the Commander by his own choice. He may have been ashamed of himself because he’d helped Saren and kept the secret from Shepard, but he wasn’t ashamed of the sex itself. “Turians get rough, Shepard.”

“Not _that_ rough, if what Chakwas said is true.”

Garrus growled in dismissal and continued. “Saren, he said it helped him think. That his mind was his own after we were together. You were right, he’s indoctrinated. I… I thought…” he whined, the words jumbled in his head. “It was before I realized that your way was the right way. But Saren is still in there. We might... I hope... I _want_ to save him.”

Shepard let out a whoosh of air. Pacing away and then back, he stopped a metre away from Garrus’ feet, thankfully where it was comfortable enough to look at him without having to crane his neck. The words seemed stuck in Shepard’s throat for a moment before he let out another long exhale and asked the question the Detective knew had been resting on the tip of his tongue: “Are you saying that because you _want_ that to even be a possibility, or because you know it is?”

“Just…” Garrus steadied himself and looked straight into the Commander’s eyes when he finished. “When we get there, give me one chance to save him, Shepard. That’s all I’m asking.”

The Commander held his eyes for several heartbeats until, mercifully, he relented with a curt nod. “Alright, Garrus.” But his words took on an edge as he finished: “One chance.”

+-+-+-+

The quietude of the ship seemed too familiar as Garrus knelt beside the Mako, performing the tank’s standard checks and mission preparation tasks. The smell of grease staining his palms too common and the taste of the recycled air too normal for all that had just occurred.

Garrus’ fingers wrapped around the wrench as he checked the tightness of the wheel bolts for what could be the very last time. They were going to Illos. They were going after Saren.

Over the past few hours, everything had changed. His mind reeled with the implications of stealing the _Normandy_ and running away with the Commander… er… perhaps running away with _Shepard_ would be more apt. He had, of course, just stolen an Alliance frigate with the help of Captain Anderson. The pair of them were likely to be court-martialed at best and thrown in the brig at worst.

His icy gaze remained fixed on the bolts as he moved in a star-pattern across them. Next, he’d need to check the tire pressure. The mundane tasks did nothing to stop his mind from racing. It wasn’t until he heard the rhythmic cadence of Shepard’s booted feet across the deck that he paused. With a small groan, he pushed himself to his feet to greet the human.

“I can’t believe we stole the _Normandy_ ,” he said with a grin. “I mean, I’m not _surprised_ , surprised... but still…”

Shepard chuckled, his brow raising as he fell into his usual stance. One hip cocked back with his arms crossed over his chest. “You sound worried, Garrus.”

“No,” Garrus replied. “Not really. If you’re wrong, we’ll pay for it. But if you’re right, and I know you are, I think we’d regret it a whole lot more.”

“Mhm…” the human hummed in agreement. His eyes passing from Garrus’ to the Mako. “Is she going to be ready for the fight?”

Patting the side of the tank, the turian nodded once with a grin sliding onto his mandibles. “Well… she will be, as long as I don’t let you drive her.” Shepard barked a laugh, reaching out and shoving his shoulder as he walked over to the console to check the numbers on his own.

It felt good to be on better terms again, despite another awkward conversation or two since their chat in the briefing room after Virmire. The entire ground team had been informed of Garrus’ involvement with Saren. Shepard didn’t like keeping secrets from them and in wake of stealing the _Normandy_ , he hadn’t felt it right to hide the facts. Garrus had reluctantly agreed.

The Detective couldn’t recall ever seeing that particular shade of purple on Liara’s cheeks, nor Tali’s bright eyes ever going so wide. Alenko still refused to look at him. And Wrex… well, the krogan had been initially stunned before starting to laugh and asked where he’d been hiding his ‘quad’ all this time. It hadn’t been what he expected from Wrex but it was better than the alternative.

“I just hope we can catch Saren,” he said once Shepard had finished checking over the tank’s readings. Garrus let some of the worries he’d been feeling into his voice, his mandibles fluttered against his jaw.

The human turned around, a sympathetic smile crossing his face. “We’ll catch him. Just be ready when we do.”

“Yes, Commander.”

They parted ways after that, Garrus going back to working on the tank and Shepard heading over to the weapons bench to adjust the sight on his rifle. Watching him go, the Sniper could see his hesitation to use the workspace. His eyes drifted over the storage lockers beside the bench…. Shepard hadn’t gone through Williams’ effects yet.

Perhaps, after they finished with Saren, he would have time to grieve.

+-+-+

As if fighting through the ruins of an ancient civilization wasn’t enough, Shepard decided it would be a great idea to take them through a mass relay in nothing but a war-scarred tank. Garrus wasn’t too proud to admit that he screamed right alongside Liara as the Commander all but cackled like a maniac. If they survived, one thing was for certain: he was never letting Shepard drive again.

Their shouts were soon drowned out by the screeching noise of metal on metal as they came to an abrupt halt. The trio was thrown against the tank’s restraints and the world turned on its head, disorienting Garrus when his helmet smacked against the hull. There was something to be said for the strength of the Mako’s safety harnesses that all three of them remained in their seats. Or, as in their seat as they could be when hanging upside down.

A wave of nausea hit Garrus, the unwelcomed taste of bile sat in the back of his throat and threatened to make itself known. He forced it down with a hard swallow, blinking a few times against the changed lighting. It was dark, the Mako’s emergency lights giving definition to the shadows.

His helmet was cracked diagonally along the visor. Now he knew it had impacted the guardrail of the turret’s ladder when they flipped. Groaning, he reached up -or was it down- to unlatch it. The armour clanged loudly against the Mako’s roof, making him wince. He’d need to patch the crack before they went anywhere.

“Shepard?” he croaked, voice hoarse. He coughed to try and clear his throat.

A moment later, the human replied with a dazed sounding: “Yep?”

“Liara?”

The asari however, wasn’t so dazed as she addressed the Commander directly. “I am only going to say this once… NEVER do that again!”

Garrus couldn’t help the guffaw that came from him as he started fumbling with the clasps of his harness. Once he got all but the last hook undone, he braced himself hard against the turret’s interior walls and grabbed on tightly to the ladder. Gravity brought him down quickly enough from his perch and he landed with a thump on the Mako’s ceiling. His laughter died and was replaced with a harsh inhale as he jolted the bruises that had started to form under his armour along the lines where the harness had held him in place.

Had he waited another moment, Liara would have probably helped him down with her biotics as she did with Shepard, but he didn’t mind. The two of them seemed content having their space for a moment. From the scent on the two of them when they’d arrived together for the morning briefing, neither had spent the night prior to Ilos alone.

Internally, he sighed. As much as he didn’t want to admit to missing Saren’s company, especially after Virmire, he couldn’t shake the feeling. Garrus had gotten himself in far too deep.

As he picked up his helmet and sealed the crack with his omnitool and some spare omnigel he had in his personal kit, there was a brief moment to reflect. He had one shot. One small chance to save the turian he had come to care for. This time, he wasn’t going to screw things up.

Garrus clasped his helmet into place. The scarred glass made it more difficult to see but it was better than the alternative. Once he knew where on the Citadel they’d ended up and figured out the atmosphere outside was stable, he’d take it off for combat. Dangerous, but less so than a blind sniper. Before he could voice the question, Liara spoke up from nearby the door.

“We’re on the Presidium. About 500 metres from Citadel tower.”

Shepard nodded and shouldered his weapon. “I’ll take point.”

When the other two were ready to move, Garrus pulled out his assault rifle. Shepard took the lead and behind him, Liara’s hands glowed blue as she raised her biotics. As a unit, they moved out of the tank and out into the Presidium to begin making their way forward to the objective where they presumed Saren would be waiting for them.

When they stepped outside, Garrus couldn’t help freezing for a moment at the sight that met him as he took in the scene with a wide-eyed stare. The Presidium was a disaster. Geth troopers had stormed the gardens, fires burned and rubble fell. Even though Garrus held no love for the Presidium itself, the Citadel was his home. Seeing it burn….

A hand on his arm brought him back to the present. Liara was looking up at him, her large blue eyes sympathetic toward him. Somehow, she had been the most understanding of his relationship with Saren. It may have been due to her mother’s involvement with the turian. Benezia had fallen into the same trap as he did: she’d thought that she could help.

It was a cold comfort, but comfort all the same.

Following Shepard’s hand signals had become second nature over the past few months. Garrus found himself anticipating his movements and directions, rarely needing to look twice or hesitate when selecting a target. The three of them, even from such different backgrounds, performed as a flawless unit.

Geth troopers were downed quickly as they made their way to the elevator. Shepard paused for a brief moment to check in with a malfunctioning Avina VI. It was unhelpful, yet the Commander wasn’t one to pass up information if he could get it. While he tried to extract information, Garrus pressed the call command for the elevator and waited for the glacial unit to arrive.

It did and the three stepped inside the lift, turning towards the doors. Three-quarters of the way up, the box stuttered to a halt.

“Saren’s locked the elevator!” Shepard snapped, taking his frustration out on the control panel with an aggravated thump of his fist. “Suit-up. We’re going outside!”

Garrus could feel the tension roll off the Commander in waves. He was very glad that he paused long enough to fix his helmet before they left the Mako, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to breathe for much longer. Shepard smashed the elevator glass with prejudice, causing it to explode outward, beyond the station’s artificial gravity and into space.

Where Shepard went, he followed.

Walking along the outside of the Citadel was surreal, despite the enemies that kept coming at them. How Saren managed to hire so many mercenaries was anyone’s guess, or perhaps they weren’t hired but indoctrinated instead. Or maybe they were clones? He didn’t know.

Shepard charged ahead, his shotgun pummelling the competition. Liara took down shields with her biotics and flung enemies out of the artificial gravity and into space with long, elegant sweeps of her arms. Garrus hung back enough to pull out his sniper rifle, having to close one eye to compensate for his damaged helmet, but he made it work. When it came to his rifle, he always made it work.

“I think we’re done here,” Liara proclaimed once the field was quiet. They continued on, their guard raised against the unknown.

With space looming above them, the Sniper found his focus drawn to it. The inky blackness, dotted with billions of stars. This was all they were fighting for. Everything that was to come and the trillions of lives out there. Although Garrus knew he agreed with Shepard’s opinion on the Reapers, seeing space drawn out before him he could understand Saren’s reasoning too.

Garrus shook his head, ridding himself of the last thread of lingering doubt. Despite understanding Saren, his opinion hadn’t changed. Survival, without servitude, was the only way forward. Shepard was right.

The vacuum was soundless, so when Shepard called for them to move to cover Garrus heard it loud and clear through his helmet comm unit. He dove towards the nearest conduit and assessed the situation. A geth dropship was inbound.

They had their work cut out for them.

Garrus paid his body no mind as his rifle pressed back into his bruised shoulder joint. There wasn’t time for aches and pains right now. Both Shepard and Liara would be feeling the same. Like water the squad moved up the makeshift battlefield, flowing and weaving between cover as one.

Popping up, the human unloaded his shotgun on the closest geth before ducking down to wait on his heatsink to cool. Liara spun out a singularity and Garrus took the airborne geth down with well-placed shots through their optics. It was a slaughter of metal and oil. Machine parts spun out beyond the gravity wall, creating an almost beautiful scene as light glinted off of it.

Garrus blinked to bring himself back to the fight just as Liara called out: “Perimeter clear.”

When they reached the next access hatch, Garrus knelt down to hack through the Citadel’s security system. At least his time in C-Sec proved useful for something. He was familiar with the tech and had the hatch open in no time at all. Shepard led the way inside, Liara and Garrus on his heels.

Once the Sniper was sure they’d reached a safe distance from the unforgiving vacuum of space, he removed his helmet and clasped it to his thigh in its flattened form. Shepard nodded his approval, no doubt having noticed the break earlier on, and he did the same. Liara kept hers on for the moment, preferring to wear her’s in combat.

Walking into the Presidium tower felt bizarre. A layer of smoke billowed from the smouldering cherry trees, suspending the courtyard in a thick haze. Rubble lined the walkways, stained with the blood of those politicians and lobbyists that had been too slow to run, their bodies left to burn.

Garrus’ teeth pressed together, enraged at all the senseless death that surrounded them. The stench of it was as thick as the smoke in the air.

Along the way to the Council’s chamber, a stray few geth troopers demanded their attention. While Garrus brought his rifle to his eye, Liara tossed them into the air, creating easy targets for him. The Commander directed them and protected their flank with great bursts from his shotgun. Together, dispatching the geth was quick work. One by one the lights from their optics flickered and died.

Garrus was the first to lay eyes on Saren.

When Liara and Shepard saw him they both inhaled sharply. While the asari’s breath was out of surprise, the human’s was to get himself ready for a command that he didn’t voice. Instead, he directed them silently forward.

Saren, on the other hand, hadn’t seemed to notice them yet.

The ex-Spectre was standing at a maintenance console on the centre dais. His back was facing them as his hands sped across the haptic keyboard. An orange glow from the console painted his pale fringe and armour, the colour stark against his plates.

Padding forward on silent feet, they approached him. Splitting down the middle with Liara and Garrus going to the right side of the railing while Shepard took the left on his own. Just as they got close, Saren punished them for even entertaining the thought that he hadn’t picked up on their presence. He sprung forward and disappeared over the edge of the dais.

They rushed toward him, only to need to take cover as Saren tossed a grenade in their direction. He missed, but Garrus could feel the heat on his face as it exploded a couple of metres away. When he poked out of cover, the biotic was standing tall in front of them on the same hovercraft he’d used on Virmire. It was as if he was daring them to attack him.

Shepard almost did. Garrus could see the tightness in his shoulders and the way his gauntlets tightened around the stock of his rifle, but he refrained for the moment. The Commander glanced at Garrus, giving his head a rough jerk toward Saren.

Now was his one and only chance.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t make it in time, Shepard.” Saren’s voice mocked. Though his words were sarcastic and harsh, Garrus could hear they were at odds with his subharmonics. Garrus met Shepard’s eyes and gestured for him to stall.

The Commander nodded once, yelling back, “In time for what?”

The extra time would give Garrus a moment to listen closer. Not only to the words but to the language that no one else could understand, maybe not even a Reaper.

“The final confrontation,” Saren said. “I think we both expected it would end like this. You’ve lost. You know that don’t you? In a few minutes, _Sovereign_ will have full control of all the Citadel’s systems. The relay will open. The Reapers will return.”

“I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“You survived our encounter on Virmire. But I’ve changed since then. Improved. _Sovereign_ has… upgraded me.”

Garrus felt his heart skip a beat, there was pain in those words under the bravado. He hadn't gotten a good look at Saren yet. It… it could be true. Maybe he _was_ too far gone and whatever part of Saren was left was too broken to fight back. The Sniper took the opportunity to push out of cover slightly while Saren’s attention was on Shepard. He needed to see his face for himself.

“You let _Sovereign_ implant you?” Shepard called out from his place of cover. “Are you insane?”

The ex-Spectre’s head dipped down toward his chest and his eyes closed for a moment. “I suppose I should thank you, Shepard,” he said without malice. It was as though his voice wasn’t his own. “After Virmire, I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said. About _Sovereign_ manipulating me. About indoctrination.”

Saren’s head snapped up, his electric gaze locked onto Garrus, making him freeze in place. When he started speaking again, he wasn’t talking to Shepard any longer, he was talking to him and his subvocals went flat. “The doubts began to eat away at me. _Sovereign_ sensed my hesitation. I was implanted to strengthen my resolve.” He raised a hand and tightened it into an angry fist. ”Now my doubts are gone. I believe in _Sovereign_ completely. I understand that the Reapers need organics. Join us and _Sovereign_ will find a place for you, too.”

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me?” Garrus shouted as he stood from cover, dropping his rifle to the ground as he moved into the open.

Both Liara and Shepard tried to call him back, but he was too far gone. He’d passed the protective barriers and was standing directly in Saren’s line of fire. Though his shields were raised, the ex-Spectre would be able to do a lot of damage if he wasn’t careful, which was fine by him. He was done with being careful.

“ _Sovereign_ is controlling you through your implants!” Garrus snarled at him. “Don’t you see that?”

Saren looked almost taken aback by his affront. The anger in his voice and the viciousness of his snarl caused the biotic to flinch away from him, almost imperceptibly. It was enough for Garrus to see that he’d hit a nerve so he kept going.

“Don’t you remember Noveria? It was quiet then.”

“No,” Saren quickly replied, but his wavering subvocals betrayed his conviction. His fist loosened and he swiped his talons through the air like he was trying to cut away Garrus’ words. “ _Sovereign_ doesn’t control me!”

Garrus chuffed. “Yes, it does! You told me the Reapers speak to you. You said it was insidious. You were right. They’re the ones making you do this.” Garrus took a single step forward, closing the distance between himself and his lover. “This isn’t you!”

Saren ripped his pistol off his hip, aiming it at him with a steady hand and shooting once towards his centre of mass. There was no time to dodge and the shot ricocheted off his shield before the barrier sparked and died. Garrus’ shoulder jolted backward with the force of the impact but he wasn’t deterred. He’d deal with the pain later. Right now, Saren was more important.

Absently, the Detective noted it was Saren’s metal arm that carried the weapon and his real one rested down at his side, the hand trembling. Saren was in there, he knew it. Garrus just needed to drag him out.

“The relationship is symbiotic. Organic and machine intertwined, a union of flesh and steel. The strengths of both, the weaknesses of neither!” Saren gestured with the gun, its muzzle pointing away. “I am a vision of the future, Garrus. The evolution of all organic life. This is our destiny. Join _Sovereign_ and experience a true rebirth.”

“Garrus!” Shepard hollered. “Get out of there, now!”

No. He couldn’t.

“ _Sovereign_ hasn’t won yet!” Garrus took another step forward. “We can stop it from taking control of the station!” And then another. “Stand down and the invasion will never happen!”

By the time Saren snarled and pressed the heel of his real palm to his crest, Garrus was only two metres away. Close enough to the hovercraft to hear the subtle hum of its mass effect field and close enough to hear the distressed keen leave Saren’s throat. His metal talons tightened over the pistol and he pointed it towards the courtyard below them.

“We can’t stop it!” he shot back. “Not forever. Shepard saw the visions. He saw what happened to the Protheans! The Reapers are too powerful, Garrus. We can’t stop them.”

Garrus shook his head, his hands raised to the level of his waist and palms open in what he hoped would appear to be a placating gesture. “You know this is wrong. You can fight this, Saren!”

The gun was loose in Saren’s talons. He lowered his real hand from his face, staring down at it like it held the answers to some unknown question. His shoulders were rounded inwards, his posture defeated where he stood. Then their eyes met and Garrus instantly recognized that it wasn’t _Sovereign_ that met his gaze. It was Saren. _His_ Saren.

“Ma- maybe you’re right. Maybe there is still a chance for.. Unh!” he broke off, snarling again but this time it was in pain. He swayed on the platform, his feet unsteady beneath him. “The implants… _Sovereign_ is too strong.”

Garrus caught the anguished keen and met it with a reassuring rumble. “You can do this. I’ll help you. Just look at me, Saren.”

He whipped his head back and forth as if trying to physically shake the Reaper from his mind. When he met Garrus’ gaze again, his mandibles were loose, his eyes still his own. “I’m sorry. It’s too late for me.”

“It’s not over yet!” Shepard yelled from behind them as he broke cover. Garrus could hear the pounding of his boots against the metal floor as they started to close the distance too. “You can still redeem yourself!”

For a moment, Saren stared contemplatively down at the gun before he swapped it to his real one, a single talon moving inside the trigger guard. “Goodbye, Garrus. Thank you.”

“Saren, no!” Garrus lunged the instant he realized what Saren was about to do. He was moving before the muzzle could depress the soft underside of his jaw. His heart pounded in his chest, and in that moment he was terrified of losing Saren. Terrified that he’d been too late to save him.

He went straight for the pistol. Tearing the gun away from his skull and into the space between them. His hands were like a vice, wrapping around Saren’s wrist as he wrestled the weapon away from him. The hoverboard beneath their feet was unstable and as they struggled it wavered, unable to bear the imbalance. Saren’s eyes were wild, probably matching his own.

A single shot went off.

The sound was deafening. Garrus and Saren were wrapped around one another as they plummeted a storey downward to the courtyard below the dais. Glass shattered around them as they fell through the observatory ceiling. Garrus felt the plate-glass cutting into the exposed hide of his neck. The rough copper scent of blood filled his nose as he prepared to hit the ground.

The plate-breaking crash never came.

Instead, a sudden wave of blue light softened their impact. Garrus wasn’t immediately certain if the biotics had come from Liara or Saren. The fall still hurt… and so did his face for some reason, but he was alive and counted that as a win. He wanted to check on Saren, but couldn’t yet as the world spun and he had to shut his eyes to stop himself being sick.

Then someone was yelling. His head felt foggy like he was underwater. Garrus felt pressure against his armour: someone was rolling him over onto his back. His head lolled to the side. The scent of blood was thicker in the air now. By the smell, most of it was his own.

“Garrus!”

“By the Goddess!”

“ _Spirits…_ What have I done?”

He could make out some of the words now: his name, invoking of spirits and goddesses. The world began to return to focus as he blinked a few times, the light above him too bright.

“Shepard, stop them!” That was Saren’s voice. “You still have time!”

Saren was ordering Shepard around. For some reason, Garrus found that hilarious and he might’ve laughed if not for the dizzying wave that washed over him. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter to stop the room from spinning. Pressure returned, only this time it was against his cheek. Hard.

“I quit…” he groaned, trying to remove the oppressive feeling with a weak swipe of his talons. His movements were uncoordinated, his wrist was easily captured and pinned to the ground above his head. Garrus forced his eyes open, squinting upward to see Saren looming above him, mere centimetres from his face. It was Saren’s warm palm on his cheek and his artificial one that had forced him to stop fighting. When the Biotic had lost the gauntlet, Garrus couldn’t remember.

The biotic’s face was contorted into an expression that Garrus never expected to see: panic. Not even when Saren had been trying to explain the Reapers after their night together on Noveria had he looked so distraught. Garrus’ free hand rose, albeit a little shakily, to grab onto him. Saren came willingly, dipping down to press their crests together.

“I thought I killed you,” Saren told him. “What in the Spirits’ names were you thinking? Idiot.”

Garrus huffed a laugh, pressing his crest up a little into Saren’s. “Wasn’t.” He felt more than heard the long sigh his lover released. “What happened?”

“You charged me. I shot you. We fell.”

“Mh… explains why my face hurts. S’bad?”

Saren released the pressure against his cheek, checking the wound for a split-second before he replaced it. “A graze. It’ll scar.” He felt Saren release his arm and back off a little. The biotic looked up at the level above them, his eyes fixing on something… someone?

“Vigil’s datafile worked!” That was Shepard’s voice, Garrus recognized it easily too.

“Quick! Open the station’s arms,” Saren yelled back. “The fleet can take _Sovereign_ down now, while it’s weak!”

Shepard and Liara started talking amongst themselves, he could hear Joker being piped in over the comms and that’s when Garrus reached his hand up to cut the sound off. The Commander could handle it, right now he was needed elsewhere. He pushed himself up despite Saren’s attempt to keep him flat. His own hand sliding over Saren’s to keep them connected.

“It’s superficial,” he said. What he meant was, _stop worrying_.

“Why…” Saren began before trailing off. “Why did you do that?”

Garrus tilted his head to the side, quizzically. Meeting Saren’s gaze, he answered him honestly. “I knew you were still in there. I wasn’t going to give up on you.”

Saren flinched away, his eyes falling to the spill of cobalt stained glass around them. “It’s still in my head, Garrus.” His brow plates lowered, mandibles drawing inward. “I can feel it.”

He reached for the gun at Garrus’ waist, his talons closing around it before the Detective realized what was going on. “Saren…” But he didn’t keep it. Instead, the pistol was forced into Garrus’ talons instead.

“I don’t want to be under _Sovereign’s_ control anymore,” he said without emotion. “Kill me.”

Shaking his head, Garrus lunged forwards again. This time, he grabbed hold of the back of Saren’s fringe as he pressed their crests together. He could feel the slow slide of blood down his cheek-plate as he left the open wound alone. “No. Listen to me. You can fight this, Saren. You’re doing it right now.”

“I’m slipping…” Saren told him without losing breaking contact.

Garrus could see the shift starting in his eyes. It was always his eyes that changed first. “Don’t go,” he pled and he could see the fight within his icy depths. His grip tightened both on the back of Saren’s fringe and on the pistol in his hand. He couldn’t put a bullet through his lover’s head before, how Saren thought that he’d be able to now was mind-boggling. “Don’t leave me.”

“Garrus… Do it….” The talons of his real hand scratched against his chest-plate as if he was trying to ground himself however possible. His metal arm, however, had started to twitch, as though Saren was fighting himself. Like the war that raged in his gaze transcended to his body.

The _implants_.

Garrus wouldn’t let Saren be taken away from him. Not by _Sovereign_.

He wasn’t sure how it started, but the scream he tore from Saren’s throat would be worn into his memory forever after that moment. The gun was tossed to the side and Garrus’ talons ripped into the artificial arm. At the same time that Saren was fighting _Sovereign_ from the inside, Garrus was fighting him from without.

He hated himself for inflicting the kind of agony that he was. But he wouldn’t stop. Garrus tore the tubing from his chest with his teeth, his claws. Anything he could manage just to separate Saren from his tormentor. He needed him to be free. He needed Saren to stay.  He would cause him pain, but he wouldn’t kill him. He couldn’t.

Saren screeched as the arm finally came loose from the socket. The sound of metal tearing echoed around them. He tossed the useless prosthetic away and it clanged loudly against the walkway. As it impacted the tile, a wave of red light erupted from it and the world started shaking around them. So much so that Garrus could hear concrete and steel cracking above them.

Before he could get them to safety, a shockwave sent him flying away from Saren. He landed hard against the grass in the centre of the courtyard with a defined thump. It made him dizzy again and the world went dark for the third time. He was certainly going to be feeling that later.

When he woke, hands were suddenly pulling him up and thrusting a rifle into his arms. He must have blacked out for more than a few seconds because it was Shepard’s grip on him and Liara with his rifle. When they’d gotten down from the level above… Garrus didn’t know. He spun around, needing to find where Saren had gone.

He found him, crumpled in a heap along the far wall.

Between them, a glowing... he didn’t know what... was growing out of the arm he’d just torn off of Saren. A second arm erupted from the pulsing lump, talons clawing furrows into the ceramic tile. It twitched and grew within the span of seconds, a spine arched, a foot flexed, until a mockery of a turian skeleton came to life before their eyes. Somehow, it floated in the air until it became whole and dropped on all fours to the ground. It looked at them without eyes and without a mouth. A monstrosity.

“What the fuck is that?” he felt himself say.

“A Reaper,” Liara told him.

There was no time to question what had just happened or how much time had passed. Right now, all he could do was fall in line with his team. There was no real cover to speak of, only burned swaths of plant life and flimsy garden features that wouldn’t stand up to gunfire… or whatever the hell the Reaper was capable of. Garrus shouldered his rifle, blinking away the lingering stars behind his eyes.

Liara tried to put it in stasis with her biotics but it moved like the geth hoppers. From the floor to the walls with amazing speed. It even managed to hang off the ceiling, as though gravity didn’t matter to it. They missed as often as they hit it, heat sinks were left to cool at short a time as possible before they railed against it again and again.

“Watch yourselves!” Shepard yelled as the thing started shooting fireballs at them. It seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once. Just as fast as Garrus could get a bead on it, it jumped away. He’d never expected to be fighting a Reaper like this… never expected months of chasing Saren across the galaxy to end in a fight for their lives against a mechanical beast made of nightmares.

There was only one saving grace. While the Reaper’s attention remained focused on him, it couldn’t target Saren. When Garrus glanced over, he found the downed turian had yet to move. A stream of cobalt had begun to leak visibly from his shoulder socket, it wasn’t gushing but it still concerned him. The Detective could feel his chest tighten at the sight and he had to force his attention back to the threat.

Bursts of heat scorched the air around him, spots danced across his vision.

Dodging the oncoming waves was exhausting. Little by little, they whittled the monster’s defences down. It screeched and started becoming more and more erratic as they fought. Garrus caught it with another hard shot from his rifle just at Shepard hit it with incendiary ammunition and Liara trapped it in another biotic blast.

Just when Garus started to tire, the Reaper stuttered to a halt. Shepard emptied his shotgun into it and the body went up in flames before disintegrating to ashes. Above them, another wave of red light lit the courtyard before it went dark.

There was no time to rest because the shadows above them continued to grow. Shepard caught sight of it first, pieces of _Sovereign_ had started to fall from above them. The Reaper had broken up and the pieces were going to crush them if they didn’t move fast enough.

“Go!” Shepard yelled, but they were already moving.

Garrus didn’t think, he just reacted. While Shepard and Liara rushed together for cover underneath the crumbled bridge, he ran in the opposite direction toward Saren.

The ceiling was already starting to come down around them when he slid to a stop at his lover’s side. Garrus braced his hands on the wall above him to shelter him from the debris. It wouldn’t do much, not if a large enough slab came down on them, but then it wouldn’t matter anyway. He would do what he could.

When Garrus looked down, Saren was starting to come around. His eyes hazy as he tried to sort out where he was, blinking against the dust in the air. His second voice rang out first in question, asking for him and Garrus couldn’t help but allow his mandibles to slide into a reassuring smile. He sang out in comfort with both his voices. “I’m here.”

Saren’s gaze came into focus a little more as he followed the sound of Garrus’ voice back to the present. He curled inwards towards Garrus’ warmth, words pained and gruff as he tried to speak, “Wh-what’s going on? My head, it’s quiet...”

“It’s gone,” Garrus said as he braced one forearm against the wall to get in tighter. The noise of the Citadel falling apart around them continued to get louder. Larger chunks of the Council chamber were beginning to fall and they thumped loudly against his armoured cowl.

With his free hand, he tore a package of medigel off his belt and used his teeth to open it. “Saren, come here.”

The biotic’s focus moved from his eyes to his hand. He shuffled across the ground a little, allowing Garrus to apply some of the medigel to his shoulder socket. Now Garrus could see that even with the arm gone, the connection point was still mostly intact. He could breathe a little easier knowing he wasn’t going to bleed out. Along with his own graze, most of Saren’s other wounds appeared to be clotting over on their own. There was something to be said for Hierarchy standard augmentations. He’d never been more grateful for them than he was now.

A larger section of rebar crashed down a handful of metres away from them. Saren pushed himself up, slowly making his way to his knees. “We should move.”

Garrus nodded in agreement and he slung Saren’s arm over his shoulders to help them relocate faster. Scanning the courtyard, there weren’t many places left to hide. He couldn’t even see where Shepard and Liara had gone.

“There,” Saren flicked his chin towards the front of the room, beneath the Council’s platform where the ceiling was still mostly whole.

Pulling them to relative safety was quick, but not painless. Garrus rumbled an apology as he jolted the ex-Spectre. When they settled, he pressed his crest to Saren’s. He wasn’t sure if it’d help much, but he needed grounding after all that had happened. Saren anchored him and he felt the tight knot in his shoulders loosen just a little with the contact. Had the situation been different, he would have expected Saren to pull away. But he didn’t. He stayed.

“I’m not giving up on you,” Garrus told him in a harsh whisper.

Before Saren could say anything in reply, a clatter above them caused the pair to swing their crests upward. A crack appeared in the ceiling and then it was coming down around them. Garrus felt his heart stop as his eyes grew wide. He couldn’t move fast enough. He got as far as shoving his body over Saren’s before the world went dark, yet again.

But only for a moment, because just as quickly a brilliant blue light appeared around them. He hadn’t blacked out this time. The darkness had been the concrete enclosing them, but Saren kept them safe. The buzz of biotics around him felt electric and so much more intense than when they’d been used on him before. The feeling made his limbs and fringe numb. From their position, he couldn’t see Saren’s face, but he could feel the tension in his body.

Eventually, the crumbling noise stopped.

Saren carefully released the biotic barrier, ready to bring it back at a moment’s notice if the debris shifted. It didn’t and they were stuck in the darkness, only the dim light of his visor remained. Garrus shifted above Saren, their armour grinding together and not in a good way. He couldn’t see the biotic’s face, only the top of his fringe for their position.

“We’re not dead,” Garrus said into the bare space between them. Saren just huffed an annoyed noise back. Had he been able to see anything, he knew the expression that would have been sitting on the ex-Spectres plates. He’d be entirely unimpressed with his obvious statement and would have flicked his mandible, too. “So… how are we going to get out of here?”

Annoyance shifted to consideration. “I doubt my amp will cooperate unless we have no other options.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, a note of concern dropping into his voice. Inhaling, he could taste a hint of over-warmed metal around the blood and eezo stuck in his nose.

Saren just released a frustrated sigh. _‘Well, that answers that at least…’_ Garrus mused as he contemplated how to best get them out of this mess. He couldn’t really move much. The debris was trapping him fairly tight against Saren’s chest. In any other situation, the position might’ve been pleasant. Right now, it was bothersome at best.

“Try your comm,” Saren said.

Garrus attempted to move his arm up, but as he shifted the rocks did too. Before anything could come loose, he stopped. “I turned it off, can you reach it?”

He didn’t answer, but Garrus could feel Saren’s single arm start to move from his side. He slid up the length of his torso, finding his neck and then his comm unit. Garrus couldn’t help the little shudder at the feel of bare talons on his hide. He let out a shaky breath. Saren’s attention was elsewhere though, as he got the comm working.

Shepard’s voice filtered in after a moment. _“Garrus? Come in…”_

“Commander, I’m here.”

He could almost feel the relief washing through the human’s voice when he came back. _“Where are you?”_

“Under the Council dais. It caved in over us.”

 _“Us? Is Saren there too?”_ There was a note of concern lingering but Garrus could tell he was trying not to voice it.

He couldn’t see Saren’s face to gauge his reaction, but he could hear the rumble of ‘go ahead’. “Yeah. We’re together. Are you and Liara okay?”

_“We’re alright. Little bruised. Anderson got us out.”_

“Anderson?” Saren bit out with a sharp growl. “Of course.”

Garrus ignored him. “We could use some assistance. Can you follow my signal?”

 _“We’ll be there soon,”_ Shepard told him with conviction. “ _Hang in there.”_

Saren flicked the comm unit and the small buzz it made let Garrus know it had been mic-muted for the moment. Instead of dropping his hand, Saren left it against the side of his neck. Heat bloomed across Garrus’ throat, spreading outward from the small point of contact. It wasn’t enough, but Garrus couldn’t exactly reciprocate. Instead, he hummed an appreciative tone. It was all he could do.

He wanted to say something, but when he tried, Saren hushed him.

The fingers against the side of his neck were insistent as Saren pulled him down a little. Not enough to destabilize anything, but enough that their crests could touch again. Through their connection, Garrus could feel the thrum Saren let out. It said everything words couldn’t.

_Thank you. I’m sorry. Goodbye._

Garrus dropped his head, nuzzling into Saren as best he could with the heavy cowl of his armour in the way. The affectionate movement continued until the sound of metal scraping overpowered Saren’s warm tone, cutting him off.

He inhaled deeply and beneath the dust and the blood and the thick scent of eezo, he could smell Saren. Garrus tried to commit that scent to memory. This could very well be the last time he ever saw the turian. He could feel Saren’s breath against his throat, the pull of his inhale as he did the same.

Hope could only take them so far.

Light flooded in, causing the pair to flinch away from it and from one another. Saren’s hand left his neck. The weight of the ceiling left his back. As fast as it had begun, it was over.

Someone from C-Sec dragged them to safety and then apart from one another. While Garrus was immediately attended by an asari medic, Saren was immobilized and chained like some wild animal. A biotic suppression collar was clamped around his neck and his single arm was affixed to his torso.

Garrus shoved the medic away and would have gone after Saren if not for Shepard’s hand on his shoulder. The Commander stopped him arguing with a hard stare. His square jaw was tight and he shook his head once.

“Not now,” was all Shepard said.

As much as Garrus wanted to fight, he knew his friend was right. Now was not the time and he hated it with every fibre of his being. He would fight for Saren, through whatever legal process that he could. He’d already planned to go back to C-Sec, and now his resolve was solidified.

His gaze shifted upward, over Shepard and straight into Saren’s eyes. Before the Officers could take him away, they had one moment of eye contact. Enough for Garrus to know that Saren was himself. _Sovereign_ was gone. But it was also long enough to see that the fight was gone too, and in its wake, a husk of the turian he knew was left in his place. Exhaustion riddled his visage. It didn’t suit him in the slightest.

Garrus could barely hold back the keen as he watched Saren’s feet drag across the ground. It wasn’t reluctance to leave or annoyance at the officers handling him. He was simply defeated.

It wasn’t fair. He deserved better.

Left standing there in the crumbling courtyard, with Shepard between them, Garrus watched Saren until he was out of sight. Only once he was gone did his resolve falter, mandibles falling loose and the aches from battle taking him down to his knees.

Shepard and Liara were at his side in no time, holding him up. Someone shouted for the medic, but Garrus didn’t care anymore. Like Saren, he just wanted to rest.

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope that you enjoyed this story as much as I have. Until writing Vices, I didn't like Saren as a character. Writing him has opened my eyes to a whole new world of possibilities.
> 
> There's a volume two on the way, I couldn't leave these boys alone for long! Hit subscribe to stay tuned for Faults and Fortitude!


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